


Lois and Clark: Metropolis Mayhem

by Venetia



Category: Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman, Man of Steel (2013), Superman - All Media Types, Superman: The Animated Series, The Adventures of Superman
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-23 16:42:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 24,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9665990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venetia/pseuds/Venetia
Summary: This is Lois Lane, a top investigative reporter. She's made a career of finding out what shady people try desperately to hide.That's Clark Kent, a man a long way from where he was born, and he's hiding a huge secret behind a pair of glasses and a change of hairstyle.That's the Daily Planet newspaper, they both work there. And when they team up, anything can happen...





	1. When Lois met Clark

Lois Lane steps off the subway and makes her way up to street level. Like everyone else in Metropolis these days, she continually glances up at the sky. It’s a beautiful sunny day, the sky is blue and there isn’t a cloud to be seen, but that is not what’s drawing their eyes skyward. No, they’re all hoping to catch a glimpse of the city’s newest resident, the flying man who saved a plane from crashing the previous week. Lois had been on that plane. She can remember it all in vivid detail: the luxurious leather seats that you could just sink into; the first class service with drinks of all description, though Lois had stuck to water as she was on the job, unlike Tommy Hardison from the Daily Tribune who’d drank two brandies and started singing sea-shanties before the launch had even started; the smooth take off of the plane – Lex Luthor’s newest addition to the future of commercial aviation (at a price though); the presentation about the plane by Lex Luthor himself as soon as they reached cruising altitude; and then how Luthor was interrupted in mid-sentence when the plane bounced around as though hit by turbulence before being quickly buckled to a seat by his security detail, one of whom got a nasty gash on the forehead for his trouble.

Lois’ stomach had lurched into her throat as the plane descended. She’d been hugging her knees, mentally writing her obituary in her head as they plummeted to the ground. She’d hoped her sister would be okay and hoped her head shot in the paper would be one of the more flattering ones and not one with bad lighting.

And then, just like that, they were level again. It was so unexpected and happened so easily that nobody had realised it until a moment or two later.

“Are the engines working?” someone had shouted and Lex Luthor himself had run to the cockpit to find out what was going on. They’d heard him shouting in there, berating his pilots for nearly crashing in the first place and then demanding to know what they’d done to save his plane. The entire cabin was hushed by this point so they all heard the pilot say clearly: “It wasn’t us. We didn’t do anything.” The co-pilot then distinctly said, “We’re still not doing anything”.

And Lois got chills. Lois often got chills while she was working on a story; the good kind of chills when she knew Something was happening, something different, something newsworthy. Something she could really get her teeth into. Unfortunately, she looked around her, she was on a plane with twelve news networks and twenty-five other newspaper reporters so an exclusive was unlikely. But still…chills. She looked out her window as they landed. The airstrip, Luthor Field, was clear but to the side, there were emergency services waiting. Two fire trucks and three ambulances, the airstrip’s own personal fleet, were ready to launch into action. But Lois saw that their occupants were standing at the edge of the runway, gaping. Anyone who was there that morning to witness the launch, be it the air field crew or associates of those on the plane, they were all staring, all with their mouths open. And then they landed without even a jolt or a bump, and the plane rode to a halt.

Lois was out of her seat and at the emergency hatch in the blink of an eye. This was the real reason she got up so early to go running before work: so she could move fast when she needed to. The stewardess had only just released the emergency chute when Lois slid down, ignoring the woman’s cries to take off her shoes, though she did lift her feet. It made for an interesting visual: Lois Lane, respected and award winning reporter, sliding on her backside with her feet raised. She leapt to her feet as soon as she hit the bottom and ran to the side. The ambulances were on their way; she was even ahead of them. And there he was standing behind the plane. He was tall, well built and dressed in a well-worn t-shirt and jeans. She glanced and saw the dark and dirty scorch mark that was all that was left of one engine, the black stain snaked across the body of the plane to join the other. And then she saw the dents. She looked at the man’s hands and she knew he’d made those dents.

Lois Lane smiled widely, a smile of pure delight. The adrenaline flowing through her right now from her narrow escape from certain doom almost made her laugh out loud. This was so out of this world, so unlikely that it just had to be true. He had done this. He had saved them. This man standing quietly and looking…looking kinda dazed, she noted.

“You landed the plane”, she said clearly and firmly, “You flew it in. You saved us. You’re like a…like a…”, she looked him directly in the eyes, “You’re a Superman!” It was a statement, not a query. The man was shaken out of his reverie by her voice. He took a step back. “No, no”, Lois hastened to say, her hands up in a conciliatory gesture, “It’s okay. I’m a reporter. I’m with the Daily Planet”, a hint of pride crept into her voice, “You can talk to me”, she put her hands to her sides but she wasn’t carrying her bag with her mobile phone to record an interview, “damn”, she said, and the man looked past her.

Lois looked over her shoulder. The hoards were descending from the plane towards them, cameras hoisted on shoulders, microphones at the ready for the big story that was happening in front of all of them. The ground crew were running, pointed at the man and shouting.

The man smiled sadly at Lois.

“I don’t know what I was thinking”, he said, “I’m not sorry I saved the plane but I wish I’d thought more about what I would do afterwards”. Lois stared. The man looked up at the sky and one second he was levitating above the ground, the next he was flying up into the air.

Lois’ jaw dropped and her eyes sparkled. And she vowed to herself there and then that she would find this man and be the first to tell his story. It’s easier said than done however. Although the man has reappeared in the sky numerous times (now decked out in a costume with a red cape) saving people from accidents, helping them carry heavy groceries, and rescuing cats from trees, as well as helping prevent major international incidents, he has not yet given an interview. Mainly because he hasn’t stayed around long enough after any appearance to give one. Lois has practically been stalking him, listening to police bands, and turning up just a few seconds too late, every time. She has contemplated borrowing her neighbour’s cat and shoving it up a tree in order to get some one on one time with this mysterious flying being. But her neighbour has flatly refused to cooperate anytime she has casually broached the subject, which Lois finds grossly unfair. After all, this is for the biggest story of all time!

She is now at the point when she thinks driving her car off a pier may be her only solution. She’s a practised scuba diver, she muses, as she walks into the Daily Planet building and heads towards the elevator. With the right equipment and precautions, she could be perfectly okay until help came. Granted, there are others who might think that her plan is a little too haphazard with her life which is why she hasn’t mentioned it to anyone but for this story, she thinks it’s worth it. She wants that first interview so bad, she could scream. These thoughts occupy her mind so thoroughly that she doesn’t notice the silence that descends on the open plan newsroom as she enters.

She doesn’t notice the spectacle wearing man at the desk near the window, the only desk that isn’t covered in papers or stationary, denoting him as the new guy. He is carefully typing in a password on his desktop computer, frown lines on his face. Lois goes to her own desk and puts her bag on the floor underneath. She takes her laptop out of its cover and sets it on her desk to boot it up. She does the same with her desktop PC. Her stationery basket is filled with multi-coloured post-it cubes. Pens are strewn about the desk and she picks them up and pops them into the pen holder one by one. She glances at her mobile phone. There’s a few texts from her mother but nothing serious. They can wait. She has finally trained her mother to accept that just because she doesn’t immediately reply to a text, that does not mean she is dead or kidnapped or in the hospital. It just means she’s at work or busy with something else. It has taken a long time and Lois will not undo her good work now by answering texts before an hour at least is up. As befits someone of her seniority with the newsroom, Lois has half a cubicle wall to the right-hand side of her. She has stuck up some photos of places she’s been to make her work area look a little less bare. It hasn’t worked. The latest picture to be pinned up there is a blurred photo of the mysterious man flying from the scene of an accident where he saved five people. It was taken by Jimmy Olsen and printed with great fanfare on the front page. Lois is proud of her friend but wishes the picture was clearer. She has taken to regarding it carefully with a magnifying glass in her spare time, as though unlocking the picture’s secrets will get her the edge she needs to track him down and get that damn interview! Finally, the atmosphere filters through to her and she looks around. Everyone quickly looks away.

“What’s going on?” she demands suspiciously. No-one says anything. She notices the new guy for the first time. He is looking around the bullpen too with a complete look of bewilderment. He pushes his glasses up on his face and catches Lois’ eye. He gives her a small wave and then goes back to personalising the settings on his computer. Lois narrows her eyes at him but he gives no sign of noticing.

“Lois”, Perry White, the paper’s editor, appears at his office door and beckons her to come in. He’s dressed in his customary shirt and tie. Lois notes that the tie is one his wife Alice gave him for his birthday last year. She’s glad to see it. He and Alice have been through a rough patch after the death of their son and she hopes that this is a sign that things are getting better between them. If it were anyone else, she’d ask straight out but this is Perry White, her boss and mentor. He would not take kindly to such a query. Not at work at any rate.

Lois looks around again at the others and then at her desk. She briefly examines her conscience to see if there is any infraction she could be hauled up on for some reason. She wonders if this is about the highlighters she took from the stationery cabinet without signing for them. She still has them, she thinks, in a drawer under a pile of notebooks. She can return them if needs be. She just really likes that shade of green. By the time she comes into the office, Perry is sitting at his desk and indicating for her to take a seat. She remains standing, deciding to take control of whatever conversation they’re about to have.

“Listen”, she says to him, “I’m sorry if I have been a bit lax on other stories this past week. I will get them done. None of them are exactly pressing, let’s be honest. Not like the biggest story of the century that I am trying to land for this newspaper! And I promise you, Perry, I am this close to getting an interview with this guy. Another week tops and I will have it in the bag. I am getting to understand his MO, I’m getting into his head, I will…I…” she looks down at his desk and sees a printout with a topic heading that really shouldn’t be there as she hasn’t handed it in yet. “The Superman Talks”, she reads upside down and her expression morphs into confusion, then disbelief, then denial, then stone cold fury.

“Who.Stole.My.Story?” she says in a voice to match her face. Perry merely turns the page around so Lois can read the by-line. He is never phased by Lois in this mood. It’s better to let her work through it so she can be her rational self once more.

“Clark Kent”, she reads. She looks at Perry. “Who the hell is that?!” she demands angrily.  
“He’s our newest reporter”, Perry replies, unfazed by her tone. He’s used to her at this point. He knows how passionate she gets about her stories. That’s why he broke the news to her in here where she won’t threaten to break anything. “He interviewed at the beginning of the week. You were busy researching what breeds of cat are likely to get stuck in trees”, he looks at her drily, “I liked his writing style, he’s well-travelled, well spoken, though he’s so mild-mannered I’m surprised he has any blood pressure registering at all. But I was in two minds. Then he calls me up and says he has an interview with the Superman and did I want it”, Perry chuckles loudly, “Did I want it? I nearly passed out with excitement, Lois, and that hasn’t happened in long time. So he came in with this”, he taps the page on his desk, “and the rest is history, as they say. It’s going to be in tomorrow’s edition. Marketing are scrambling to get radio and TV airtime to announce the Daily Planet getting the biggest scoop of the century. Actually since creation. This is as big as if we’d gotten to sit down with Jesus himself. And you know me, Lois, I’m a church going man, I don’t say that kind of thing lightly!”

Lois sits down, resisting the urge to scream loudly.  
“I see”, she crosses her legs and clamps her mouth shut to hold back any loud noises.

Perry isn’t fooled but he lets her maintain the charade if it helps her. Lois stares at the pages on the desk, the words seemingly mocking her. This is so unfair, she can’t even begin to describe it. This Clark Kent has not only taken HER story away, he’s now deprived her of her vocabulary and she needs that in order to do her job!

“How do we know any of this true?” she enquires finally, “He could be lying.”  
Perry wags his finger at her. “Do you not think your esteemed editor has thought of that?”, he says, “I had wondered how we were going to verify this when this morning while I was on the roof, the Superman flew down and told me that Clark Kent was a friend of his and that he had indeed given the interview.”  
Perry sits back and waits. Lois’ eyes widen as the magnitude of what Perry has just said hits her. She opens her mouth to speak but is finding it hard to breathe. She leans over before abruptly straightening again. She gets to her feet, then sits down again. It is as though her brain is shortening out. She stands up, her hands in the air. Then she sits down.

Everyone in the newsroom is watching this through the glass partition that separates Perry’s office from the rest of the room.  
“She’s not looking too good”, someone says, the low hum of the TV’s around the room a constant accompanying soundtrack to the usual hubbub that goes on.  
“Looks like he just told her he met the Superman”, another replies.  
The new guy with the glasses comes to stand beside them.  
“I hope Miss Lane isn’t too upset”, he says sincerely, “I’d hate to start my new job off on the wrong foot”.  
“Ah don’t worry about it, Kent”, a voice says behind him, “Lois will bulldoze through anything and anybody when she’s got her teeth into a story but at the end of the day, her heart belongs to the Daily Planet. She’ll come around especially when she sees how your story is going to benefit the paper.”

Back inside the office, Lois bites the inside of her cheek.

“This is such bull”, she spits, getting to her feet, “That was my story! I saw him first! Before he changed his look! Everyone knows that! This Kent guy has no business getting that story. And you! You!” she points accusingly at her editor who looks back unperturbed, “What the hell are you doing up on the roof talking to Superman?! Does everyone except me get to speak to him? I’m the one who wants to talk to him more than anything and all I’m getting is scraps from the conversational tables of others!”  
“Before you go out there and turn my newsroom into the gunfight at the O.K. Corral and give George in H.R. a stroke”, he says drily, “you should read this.”  
He holds out the piece of writing.  
Lois raises an eyebrow.  
“I don’t want to read it”, she folds her arms.  
Perry shakes it at her.  
“You know you always like to check out the competition, Lois”, he smiles at her.  
“Not this time”, she sticks her chin into the air.  
Perry puts it back on his desk.  
“How about I just email it to you and you can read it when you have time”, he suggests.  
Lois remains resolutely silent.  
“If there’s nothing else”, Perry says, “and I know I’ve said all I have to say, how about you go out there and do what we pay you to do, hmm? Now that the Superman story is taken care of, you can revisit some of the other items that you’ve been ignoring and make something of them that we can print maybe?”  
Lois lowers her arms. “I will see what I can do”, she says with dignity and exits the office.  
Everyone has gone back to their desks, the morning’s entertainment over.  
Lois Lane did not scream bloody murder nor did she throw anything.

“You know I’m glad she didn’t throw anything”, one of her colleagues says in a low voice to another at the photocopier, “but the last time she was super pissed and started flinging paper clips around, that really livened up my week.”  
Her colleague looks at her in surprise.  
“Oh come on”, she replies, “I work in obituaries! I have to make my own fun!”

Clark Kent does not usually eavesdrop on other people’s conversations if he can help it but the reaction to Perry’s announcement that he had gotten the Superman scoop made him pause. There was so many gasps of surprise and so many people glanced over at Lois Lane’s empty desk after Perry said it that he couldn’t help but notice something amiss. So far Lois has not noticed that they’ve already met but then she’s barely looked at him. He hopes his laid-back Clark Kent persona will throw her off any possible scent but she got a good look at him that day on the airfield. His parents seem to think the glasses and altered hairdo will be as effective a disguise. Clark isn’t sure but he’s never doubted them before and he’s not about to start now. His mother Martha swears that the glasses alone change his appearance dramatically but every time Clark looks in the mirror, he sees what he usually sees, only this time with dark frames on his face. Jonathan Kent’s suggestion that he stoop slightly was not initially successful. Martha asked him if he were auditioning for a production of The Hunchback of Notre Dame which made him realise he might have over done it.

He has what he hopes is a nonchalant attitude as Lois walks towards him. The sound her heels make on the laminate wooden floor could be portents of doom. She looks very imposing in her tailored three-piece suit and her long brunette hair tied up, as she is meant to. He looks up as she stands at his desk.  
“Hello”, he smiles pleasantly.  
She does not return the smile.  
“So you got my Superman story”, she says.  
He nods.  
“Beginner’s luck no doubt”, she holds out her hand, still professional and unsmiling, “I’m Lois Lane. Welcome to the Daily Planet”.  
“Clark Kent”, he shakes her hand.  
Lois takes a moment to regard him and Clark feels a stab of nervousness.  
She has a very direct piercing look.  
“Just don’t make a habit of stealing my stories”, she tells him.  
He checks to see if she’s joking. She’s not.  
“I will do my best”, Clark says pleasantly.  
“You better!” she snaps, turning on her heel to go back to her desk.  
Surreptitiously, she puts the contraband highlighters in a desk drawer out of sight.  
Clark pushes his glasses up on his nose and begins going through the emails that Perry has just forwarded to him. His work email is less than half an hour old and already there are fifty-six mails in his inbox. Good thing he can read quickly.

The television sets around the newsroom are returned to their usual volume and the air of constraint and wonder that had been in there dissipates as people get back to work. Within minutes, the usual sounds of keyboards, phones ringing and being answered, and conversations across desks, some being shouted, others at more regular levels, are back in full force.  
After a while, when she is sure that no-one is looking, Lois moves the mouse around to minimise her browser and open Clark’s piece.  
She looks for flaws in the prose. Something, anything to show that this new guy should be run out of the building.  
She looks for problems but instead gets caught up in the interview. He’s got a snappy style and draws out his subject well. She scrolls down and an exchange makes her pause for a long moment.  
  
_“People are already including you amongst the ranks of the superheroes. What do you think your name should be? Gotham has the Batman, Star City has the Green Arrow; what does Metropolis have?”_  
“ _You know, I like the name Superman._ ” _“_  
_Really? Where did that come from?”_  
_“I met someone recently who suggested it. It was a very fleeting encounter and I left in a hurry but I hope our next meeting will afford us the chance to have a longer conversation”._

Lois hides a smile at that. She feels oddly placated and a little giggly.  
He remembers me, she thinks, wondering if joyfully spinning in her chair would be too much for the workplace. She looks at the lines again on the screen.

You better believe we’ll have a longer conversation next time, she promises herself and the universe.

Outside, Metropolis goes about its business with people and traffic. It appears to be business as usual in all quarters.

But it’s not because people are still looking up in the sky at intervals hoping to see the Superman…


	2. And then there was Superman...

The interview with Superman sets all aspects of the media ablaze as soon as first hints of it appear on the airwaves. By the time it actually appears in print on the streets and online, it is all anybody can talk about. The amount of hits the piece receives in its first hour crashes the Daily Planet website and the IT department hurry to get it sorted.

Perry White is high on life over the impact Clark’s interview (with himself) is having.

“This is it, children!” he tells his newsroom, "This is journalism!"

Lois reads through the copy of the interview that Perry sent her while the bus to work makes it way slowly through the morning Metropolis traffic.  

_SUPERMAN: “...but I’m not the one size fits all solution people might think I am. Or be concerned that I will try to be. I want people to know that we’re all in this together…”_

_CK: “I’m sorry. In what together?”_

_SUPERMAN: “This. Life. The world. Society. Whatever you want to call it. We have to help one another and be one another’s Superhero. Or be our own. Everyone has it in them. Because really w hat good am I, what good is anything I can do if I can’t try to inspire people to greater heights, to be more. To do better. I’ve lived amongst humans long enough to know the potential they have to be great. They need to be reminded of that from time to time.”_

_CK: “And how long exactly have you lived amongst humans?”_

_SUPERMAN: "A while now. It's not something I’m willing to share at the moment. Too many good people could get hurt if their association with me became public. I won’t repay their help by exposing them to harm”._

_CK: "Hope is a rare commodity in a lot of places. And some people may not welcome someone who is so clearly and outsider literally swooping in and talking about a better way of living.”_

_SUPERMAN: “I have broad shoulders. I can cope. The important thing is that people realise they’re not alone and that they can make a difference. Each and every one of them.”_

Everyone has an opinion on the interview and on the alien. Some react in fear, demanding that action be taken to rid the world of him. Others declare he should be given a chance. The reactions of some religious leaders veer from the concerned to the apoplectic, all variations on a theme of ‘do we need an alien telling us what to do, assuming a God like role’. Many pundits speak out voraciously against this alien being who thinks he can better peoples’ lives.

            “My life is fine as it is!” a male commentator roars on a national morning news show, his expensive haircut & suit and his gold watch giving the truth about his life at least, even if he’s unqualified to speak about anybody else’s.

Another pundit on a different news channel posits that the Superman really is part of an invasion force and that nothing he says can be trusted. He should be shot on sight, the pundit insists, blatantly ignoring the fact that it has been tried by criminals desperate to get away from him as he foils their plans and that bullets plain bounce off him.

Lois is alternately scathing and furious.

"Nobody cares what you think!" she yells at the TV in the newsroom. Nobody pays her any heed. It would be odder if she stayed silent. 

Clark opens his inbox to discover it full with queries about everything from Superman's physique to his personality. If people can't get to talk to the actual Superman themselves, they will go to the next best thing: the man who did actually get to have a conversation with him.

"And someone with the handle 'SupermanLover69' wants to know if Superman can have babies with humans", Clark tells the reporters Perry has assembled in his office that morning, "I mean, I don't know. That's not something I ever thought about before..." 

"Why would you think about it at all?" Lois asks him, sitting in the chair beside him opposite Perry's desk. There's ten of them in there in total, including Cat Grant, the Planet's resident social columnist. For someone who was out until all hours at a black tie society function, Cat looks amazingly fresh and ready to go, her sunglasses perched on top of her long blonde hair and a take away cup of coffee in her hand. 

Clark opens his mouth to answer Lois, then shuts it again abruptly. Best not to answer that one honestly. He glances at Lois but she's already lost interest, looking down at the texts on her phone. He catches Cat Grant's eye and she smiles sympathetically at him. 

"I've had my fair share of odd contacts", she says, from her seat on the other side of Lois, "Unfortunately it comes with the territory. Lois is also familiar with them, aren't you Lo?" she nudges Lois with her elbow and Lois looks up from her phone.

"Some people have too much time on their hands", she grumps, looking behind her, "Unlike me. Where is Perry gone? He calls a meeting and then vanishes. What's this about anyway?"

"I thought you'd know, Lois", Jimmy Olsen replies teasingly. He's sitting on the couch behind them. There aren't many chairs in Perry's office so the couch, usually covered in print outs and anything else Perry sees fit to toss on it, is being used for its actual purpose.

"How would I know, Olsen?" Lois retorts but it's more friendly banter than anything else. 

"You're his favourite aren't you? Gives you all the cushy stories and the best desk", Jimmy winks at Cat who shakes her head smilingly.

"If I really was his favourite", Lois says back, "You'd be covering church socials."

There's a mix of laughter and mock shocked gasps at this. Clark grins. Perry opens the glass door of his office and walks in amidst the laughing. 

"Good to see you're all enjoying yourselves", he says, going briskly to his desk and chair and dropping his phone on top of a pile of manilla folders, "Especially when we're slap bang in the middle of the biggest story ever. Unless Superman turns out to have a sister. Or a cousin". 

Clark gives a little laugh and Lois glances at him.

"What's so funny?" she demands.

"Nothing", he says quickly. 

"Kent", Perry turns his attention to him, "Someone from PR will down to you shortly to talk you through your media schedule."

Clark turns wide startled eyes on him.

"Media schedule?" he repeats, "Oh no, no, no, thank you Mr White, but I've done my bit. I wrote up the interview. I like my work to speak for itself."

Perry puts his head to one side and rests his hands on his hips. Lois notes he's still wearing the tie from yesterday. The shirt is fresh but the pants are from yesterday as well. That might not mean anything but it might mean that he didn't go home last night. It's not unusual for Perry to keep a fresh pair of clothes in his office for times when he's had to pull all nighters and for when he's had to go on news channel shows to give his opinion on something or other. 

"It's cute that you think being a reporter is just about getting in print these days, Kent", Perry says, "but times have changed. And we have to change with them. Hence our extensive online presence and our dedicated social media department. I've just come from a hastily arranged meeting with the board who want to capitalise on this in a big way. So you will be doing a couple of TV interviews to talk about the Superman. I told them", he held up his hand to silence Clark who was ready to cry off, "that you were not a TV natural", Lois rolls her eyes at this, "and the PR person will give you a bit of media training. Anyway, there shouldn't be any hard ball questions. The main focus will be on Superman, not you". 

Clark doesn't find this comforting at all. 

"So why are we here, Chief?" Cat asks him.

"Randall is here because we need info on his home planet...what's it called..."

"Krypton", Lois and Clark say in unison, and Cat hides a smile. 

Clark looks at Lois who glares at him. He looks away again, knowing that it would be a really bad idea for him to literally fly out the window right now but he really wishes he could, the way this day is turning out. 

"From the bit of information he told Clark", Randall says from his perch on the arm of the couch, "I can talk to some astronomy buddies I know and put something together."

"You can do that?" Clark asks.

"I can try", Randall replies. 

Clark looks thoughtful. It had never occurred to him that Krypton's location might be discoverable to anyone without the knowledge in the crystals that came with him in the ship. Will this be a help or a hindrance, he wonders. 

"Cat", Perry turns his attention to his society writer, "find out if he's accepting any invitations to events, who's asking him to be a patron of what, is he accepting? Who is his liaison for these things? Let's get practical. Does he have a mobile, email, what about a Facebook account?"

Lois snorts loudly. "As of this morning, there were thirty five different Facebook and Twitter accounts for Superman and none of them are him", she informs the room.

"And you checked them all, yeah?" Jimmy asks.

"I am an investigative reporter", Lois replies with dignity, "I investigated!"

There's some laughter and even Perry smiles. But only briefly. 

"Emily, his outfit", Perry brings the meeting back to order, "This suit he wears. The cape, the boots. Get me a fashion critique. I'm giving you free reign on that one".

"Thanks Chief!" Emily beams with delight that she's a part of the Superman Daily Planet express. To be in on the ground floor for something like this, well those years at fashion college and writing puff pieces while summer interning at a fashion magazine were starting to really pay off!

"Chief! Lois protests loudly.

Perry takes off his half rimmed reading glasses and looks at them. 

"What?" he asks.

"Chief, the man is an important part of world history and you're reducing him to the sum of his clothes!" Lois says, "That's not fair."

"Um Lois", Emily interrupts politely, "They do it to women all the time."

"But this man is a visitor from another world who saves people!" Lois insists, "He deserves better!"

"Someone has a crush", Jimmy Olsen says in a sing-song voice and Lois rolls her eyes.

"Are you enjoying re-enacting your middle school days?" she asks him, as the room erupts into laughter again. 

Clark is smiling down at the notebook on his lap.

Perry White is not amused.

"Focus!" he snaps and they all immediately do. "This is serious, people", he warns them, "We are in front with this story and we are going to keep our lead! We do this right and it will keep the paper solvent and you employed for a long time to come! So unless you have plans to update your resumes and go looking for somewhere new to work in the next five to eight years, I suggest you keep your wits about you and listen to your editor! And as for you", he turns to Lois, "the Superman is not your personal story. You're not his press secretary and last I checked, you've barely talked to the man. You're not his friend. He's a story. You're a reporter. Do your job!"

Everybody finds something of interest to look at either on the floor or on their hands. Lois shifts slightly in her seat.

"And what exactly is my job where Superman is concerned?" she asks her boss.

"I want you to talk to Lex Luthor about if or how the Superman's arrival affects his plans for the Luthor Corp space station.

"He's not going to like that the interview isn't purely about him", Lois points out.

Perry shrugs. "Too bad", he says back, "if he wants the press, and I suspect he does, he'll have to put up with it. And you have my full permission to tell him that final say over what we print is out of the question."

Lois nods. Perry gives out a few more instructions and dismisses them. 

Clark wanders slowly back to his desk where Abby from PR is waiting for him. 

From her desk, Lois watches him leave the newsroom with her, heading towards the elevators. 

"Like a lamb being led to slaughter", Cat remarks, coming to stand beside her, "Poor guy. He's really being thrown in at the deep end."

"He should have left the story to me", is all Lois says. 

Cat pats her on the shoulder. "You have about another forty eight hours tops", she advises her kindly, "Before people stop cutting you slack on your territorial attitude towards the Superman."

"First of all, he is not the Superman, he is Superman. That's what I named him. That's the mantle he appears to have taken on and it goes quite well with that S symbol he wears on his chest", Lois turns to her friend, "and second of all, I hear what you are saying and I will endeavour to subdue my feelings on this matter. Even though I think they're quite justified", she finishes quickly.

"Lois!" Cat says warningly.

Lois holds up her hands in submission. "Fine. I'll knock it off. At work at any rate."

"Yeah, save that shit for your journal", Cat says in a consoling fashion before going to do some work of her own. 

Lois sits down and flicks through her contact book. To talk to Lex Luthor, most people have to go through one of his underlings. 

But Lois Lane is not most people. She picks up the receiver from the handset on her desk and punches in a number that is not entered in her book in her handwriting.

It rings three times before being answered.

"Hello Lois", the voice of Lex Luthor himself speaks into her ear, "To what do I owe this pleasure?" 

 

 


	3. Lex Luthor

Lex Luthor doesn't often rearrange his schedule at the last minute. In fact, it rarely happens. He has made captains of industry, government officials, and once even an Archbishop rearrange their calendars to suit him. So his secretary is a little surprised when Luthor calls him in to say that the prearranged lunch with the Mayor has to be moved to another day. His secretary is too smart to betray that surprise however and does as he's bade.

Lois shows her ID and press credentials at the security desk that takes up most of the foyer in the bustling Luthor Building in downtown Metropolis. The security guard is efficient and thorough. He knows Lois Lane by sight, as do many people in the city, but it is more than his job is worth not to go through the standard visitor procedure. Once that is complete and Lois has been issued with her clip on Visitor badge, she moves to join the line of people waiting to go through the security check point in order to gain access to the elevator bank and the building proper.

But a woman in a dark jacket and pencil skirt comes to her and indicates for Lois to follow her away from the security lines and over to a private elevator tucked the far side of the foyer, past a row of ferns. The doors are discretely hidden away in the side of the wall, so as not to attract attention to them. They are for Mr Luthor’s personal use, for him and anyone he deems worthy.

And today, Lois has been deemed most worthy. She glances at her watch as she enters the elevator, watching the doors glide silently to a close behind her. Her escort presses the button for the top floor and they begin their ascent. Clark’s television appearance will be airing soon. Last she heard, it was going to be a live interview which made the mild mannered Clark Kent wide eyed and frozen for about eight seconds. She’d counted. She’d almost felt sorry for him. However, whatever about his scooping her on the Superman story, if Clark Kent wants to run with the big leagues and the big stories under the Daily Planet banner, he’s going to have to be able to step up and take on media appearances when necessary. Anyway, she muses, he’s in good hands. The media training people on retainer are the best the city has to offer. He’ll be fine.

The doors open to reveal a light marbled hallway. The walls have been re-papered since she was here last. It’s nice. It brightens up the place. She notes some new art acquisitions hanging on the walls too. Lex has been busy, it appears. Or rather, his interior designing team has been busy.

Lex Luthor is standing by the drinks trolley in his office, pouring himself a generous amount of brandy into a glass when Lois enters. He fills the room with his presence but it’s not just his bulky frame, exaggerated by the baldness of his head.

Lex Luthor has personality.  
Lex Luthor has charisma.  
Lex Luthor has charm, and he knows how to use it to best effect when needs be.

Lois’ escort, who has not given her name and hasn’t uttered one word, withdraws now that she has completed her mission and disappears.

“Lois!” Lex says amiably, “Good to see you again.”

“Lex”, she returns his greeting, “Good to be seen.”

“Drink?” he holds up his glass, “It’s five o’clock somewhere.”

She shakes her head. “Not thanks”, she tells him, “Someone of us don’t have the luxury of going back to the office with alcohol on our breath.”

Lex laughs heartily at this. “Just so”, he says, indicating for her to sit on the leather couch, placed neatly at the fireplace with the thick black mantle.  
Photos of Lex at various events are placed on it. It’s a discrete but unmistakable sign that he is a man who gets around, who meets people. People of importance. And he doesn’t need to brag about it, nor have ostentatious reminders of his encounters with people who are impressive in their own rights but who become all the more impressive from being photographed with him, strewn about his office.

“I was a bit surprised to get your call yesterday”, Lex tells her, “The last time I was in your paper, it was a scathing piece about my proposed parks renewal plan. I wasn’t expecting Perry White to send his ace reporter Lois Lane to get my statement about the latest sensation in town”.

Lois sits down on the couch. “Your parks plan was flawed and we both know that it was more about a tax plan to benefit you than it was about Metropolis’ green areas”, Lois looks at him severely, “You deserved every bit of that feature. This is different though.”

“Yes, it is”, Lex agrees, as he sits easily beside her and takes another drink.

Lois taps the screen of her phone to bring up the audio record function and Lex sets his glass on the table at the end of the couch.

“The official statement”, he begins, “is that…”

“Yes, yes”, Lois cuts him off impatiently, “I read the official statement. As did everyone else. Working together for the betterment of mankind, science division proceeding as planned with space station, blah blah. What’s the real story?”

Lex beams broadly. “I have missed talking with you, Lois Lane”, he says, “I’m sorry we didn’t get to chat more at the plane launch. It was an exciting day, wasn’t it?”

“Did you find out what happened to the plane? What caused it to almost crash and kill us all?” Lois asks.

Lex smiles. “Yes of course”, he says as though surprised that would ever be in doubt, “We discovered the technical malfunction. It won’t happen again.”

“And what was it?” Lois wants to know, “Bad wiring? Faulty engine?”

Lex continues to smile but his smile is less that of a pleasant expression and more a mask. It’s a barrier. “It’s complicated”, he says.

“Try me”, Lois says.

“It’s confidential”, he says.

“I’ll bet it is”, Lois replies, never taking her eyes off his face for second. Lex continues to keep his eyes on her in return.

“What do you want, Lois?” he asks, leaning back very slowly against the back of the couch.

“I want to know what Lex Luthor really thinks of the arrival of Superman and what it bodes for your long gestating space station project”, she says, a smile spreading on her face.

“Now that is something that will have to wait until I’m well liquored up and we are firmly off the record”, he replies, his smile matching hers.

An onlooker would surmise that they were akin to two chess players, each watching the other’s move very carefully, plotting to stay at least two moves ahead.

“Lex Luthor drunk?” Lois put her head to one side, “Lex Luthor actually not in full control of himself in the presence of another person? That would be like getting a clear picture of Bigfoot.”

Lex roars with laughter at this and relaxes slightly. “I’ll tell you this”, he says, “the space station is a big deal, not just for our science division but for me personally. I’ve made no secret over the years about my penchant for the possibility of space travel and the opportunities it presents for all kinds of things. We’ve had a few setbacks”, he waves away Lois’ attempt at an interruption, “Nothing the press needed to know about then or now. It’s the way with projects like this, imaginations can sometimes far outstrip budgets and what is humanely possible”, Lex gets to his feet and walks to the mantle, leaning against it, “The arrival of the Superman means that we are not alone. It makes our space exploration all the more necessary. All the more exciting”, an almost fanatical gleam comes into Lex’s eyes as he speaks, “There is life on other planets. We’re not the only ones in this vast cosmos and we have to go and seek them out and discover what else is out there”, he turns and points to the large window behind his desk. To the left of the window are two French doors that lead out onto the balcony, affording one of the best views of the Metropolis skyline. He stops talking for a moment, his attention taken by the sight of the blue sky.

Lois waits. If you get him at just the right time, in just the right time and are able to be patient, then maybe…just maybe Lex Luthor will be in a chatty mood and tell you a little bit more than he originally intended.

He turns back to her. “The space station is going to proceed as planned”, he tells her, “and no-one, not anyone born of this Earth or off it, is going to change that”. There is a cold determination at the edge of his tone that makes her believe him. Woe betide anyone, Lois suddenly thinks, who tries to tell Lex Luthor that his space station is not going to happen.  
Lex smiles abruptly, changing the mood immediately. He is now all charm and ease.

“It’s almost lunch time”, he says, “Will you join me?” he walks over to her and Lois stands up.  
If he moves just another inch closer, he will be within kissing distance of her mouth. He knows it too, judging from the glances he keeps giving her lips.  
Lois raises an eyebrow.

“I told you, I’m not interested in you that way”, she says drily, “and we both know that you’re only trying to score with me because I keep turning you down”.

Lex laughs again and steps back from her. “No harm done?” he raises his hands in mock submission.

“I don’t care for your repeated attentions when I’ve made myself clear on this score”, she tells him sternly, “and it will come against you in years to come when I write my best-selling memoirs and hold nothing back.”

Lex laughs again. “I look forward to reading them”, he says, “and having my lawyer contact your lawyer about libel and slander.”

Lois shakes her head. “Threats don’t scare me, Lex”, she tells him, slinging her bag across her shoulder and keeping her phone in her hand, “I grew up on army bases. My father’s a General. I’m not afraid of a fight, in court or outside it.”

“This is why I like you, Lois”, Lex goes to his desk and sits down, “You keep things interesting.”

“My life’s goal, I’m sure”, she replies.  
Her escort from earlier has magically reappeared.

“I want final approval on your piece before it goes to print”, Lex says, lifting the lid of his laptop and tapping some of the keys.

Lois starts to laugh. “That’s a hard no from Perry White. And from me”, she says over her shoulder.

“Lois…” Lex says, a warning in his voice which she casually disregards.

“Goodbye Lex”, she says firmly, following her escort to the elevator again.

Lois is no sooner standing outside the building than a text message alert pings on her phone.  
She looks at the screen and grimaces at the message.

“Nice try, Lex", she mutters, "but it'll be a cold day in hell before you get to approve anything I ever write about you or anyone else". 

She raises her hand to hail a taxi but they continue to sail past.

Lois rolls her eyes. 

"Hi Lois", a familiar voice says behind her and she turns and blinks in the sunlight up at Clark Kent, "I thought that was you. How did your interview with Lex Luthor go?"

"It went like all my other interviews with him", she replies, "but never mind that, how did your interview go?"

Clark shrugs. "It went fine", he says.

"Really?" she says, "Fine? You seem awfully nonchalant for a man who was freaking out internally yesterday."

"Turns out I'm better at it than I thought", he tells her, "It was fine."

"Oo-kay", Lois says slowly, "I'm going to have to watch this now for definite", she grins and takes out her phone to find the interview online.

"Oh geez", Clark says, his shoulders slumping and Lois giggles. Clark emits an ear piercing whistle at an approaching taxi. Lois closes one eye for a second and pokes at the ear that got a direct hit from the sound. 

"A warning next time, Kent!" she tells him but she's not cross. 

"Sorry", he says as the taxi pulls up to the kerb and he opens the backseat door for her.

"Thank you", she says, getting in and he sits in beside her. The door closes and the taxi pulls away and rejoins the traffic flow, in the direction of the Daily Planet offices. 

Lex Luthor lowers the binoculars from his eyes and frowns. From his vantage point on the balcony and with the aid of his binoculars and the telescope that's almost permanently set up out here, he can see so many things that are going on around him. He turns to the woman standing a respectful distance away near the french doors, the woman who brought Lois up to the office and escorted her out again. 

"She called him Kent", he says to her without turning around. 

"Your lip reading skills have improved immensely", she tells him and he gives a brief nod.

"That must be Clark Kent", he goes on, "the one who got the Superman story. Find out everything you can about him, Ms Otis. If he's an ally of this flying do-gooder, then he's no friend of ours."

"What about Lois Lane?" Ms Otis asks.

"What about her?" Lex asks, turning to face her. 

"Are you happy to allow your association with her to continue as it is?" Ms Otis enquires. 

"Lois Lane is not a problem", Lex turns around again and raises the binoculars to spy some more on the people going about their business below, "Not yet at any rate. Until then I shall continue to enjoy sparring with her and attempting to get her to go out to dinner with me", he lowers the binoculars slightly, "did you send that text about me wanting final approval?"

"Of course", Ms Otis frowns slightly as though put out that he'd even ask, "she won't give it, you know."

"Of course I know", he says irritably, raising the binoculars again, "but she's not the board of the Daily Planet and soon they too will fall into line with all the rest. Now", he says, handing her the binoculars, "There's a man on the phone near the bench. He's wearing his ID on a lanyard around his neck. He works in accounting". 

"I see him", Ms Otis looks through the binoculars.

"Fire him", Lex says, "Have him gone by the end of the day."

He walks towards the french doors to go back inside.

"He's worked here twenty years", Ms Otis says after him, "He has four children and his wife died two years ago."

"Even better", Lex grins, leaving the brightness of the balcony to enter the office, made all the gloomier by the contrast with the sunlight outside.


	4. Superman. Finally.

Perry White reads the copy of the Lex Luthor interview that Lois has handed him. 

He is not impressed. Lois knows that look all too well. It's been a while since she saw it with regards to her work but there's no denying it's there now. 

"It was the best I could do", she tells him, sitting on the chair opposite his desk. She sounds resigned and annoyed at the same time. "He was at his cagiest when it came to his future plans for the space station. He's determined to make it happen, that much was obvious, but he declined to give any specific details."

"Judging from this", Perry says, holding up the single typed page, "You barely spoke to him at all."

Lois says nothing.

"What?" Perry asks, his mood changing from irate editor to one of concerned boss, "What did he do?"

Lois shakes her head. "I just..." she pauses and looks around Perry's office as though she's afraid of being overheard but the door is firmly closed and there is only the two of them in the office. Nobody outside is paying them any heed through the glass partition, not even Clark who could eavesdrop if he wanted to but he's too busy polishing up an article on Metropolis unemployment rates. "Lex Luthor makes me uncomfortable", she admits to Perry who frowns. 

"Has he said or done anything inappropriate?" Perry immediately asks.

"Lex is very subtle about such things", Lois says wryly.

"So that's a yes", Perry looks angry, "Son of a bitch."

"He asks me out a lot", Lois continues, "And he acts as though he wants to kiss me", Perry narrows his eyes at this, "But it's more he's working on wanting me to want him to kiss me. And he'd withdraw in victorious glee if I succumbed. It's a game he plays. He does it with a lot of people", Lois shrugs.

"Great shades of Elvis!" Perry sits back in his seat. It's as close as he gets to swearing, "More mind games from the rich and powerful". He looks at the sheet of paper on the desk in front of him, "If I quietly shelve the Luthor angle, would that be a problem?"

Lois looks at him. Not to be a part of the biggest story ever? Yeah, that's a problem. A huge one. To her ego and her self-created career path. But there doesn't seem to be any alternative to this one. Clark Kent got the scoop. Lex Luthor is less talkative than ever about his plans. Lois Lane may just have to sit this one out, whether she likes it or not. 

Later, Cat Grant passes by Lois' desk. "How did the Lex interview go?" she asks.

Clark does not need super hearing to hear the question and the answer it receives. It gets him wondering just why he hasn't approached Lois as Superman? After all, she was the first person he met in what was to become that guise.  
Why has he been avoiding her as Superman? Clark Kent likes her well enough. She's smart, she's a top reporter, and he respects the hell out of her work.

He respects the hell out of her.

And he'd like to talk to her. Clark Kent can talk to her but not about...

Clark stops.

He's talking about himself in the third person. Could this be the first sign of approaching madness? Or a mental instability from having to be two personas? 

Do Kryptonians go mad? He doesn't know. Something to ask Jor-El at the Fortress of Solitude in the Antarctic next time he's there maybe?

"Why are you staring at my waste paper basket, Kent?" Lois' voice breaks into his ponderings.

"I...um...I was thinking", he replies.

"Uh-huh", Lois frowns and turns slowly back to her laptop.

Clark comes to a decision and stands up, pulling on his suit jacket which is hanging on the back of his chair.

"I'm just popping out for a minute", he says to no-one in particular and no-one pays him any heed. Nodding in satisfaction, he leaves the office.

A short while later, Lois gets up from her chair and stretches. She needs some fresh air, a different perspective to look at for a few moments. Going into the elevator, she presses the button for the roof, which offers a spectacular view. The Daily Planet building is easily as high as the Luthor building where she met Lex for their tête-à-tête earlier, and like many people who work for the paper, Lois likes to come up every so often for a respite or to recharge the mental batteries.   
The roof is laid out in a square shape with a high wall around the edge to lean on if a person so wishes. Lois is facing west. To be up here to watch the sun set on Metropolis is something she regards a privilege. Her paper. Her city. She loves them both in equal measure. 

Lois pushes open the glass door that leads from the rooftop elevator lobby out onto the roof itself. No-one else is around and she sighs quietly. She leans on the wall and looks out at the sky. There are light sprays of fluffy clouds moving across the blue sky and the sun is bright but not overpowering.

It's a nice day. Weather wise, at least. 

"Am I disturbing you?" a voice says to the left of her and she freezes.

It's his voice. 

It's him. 

She turns slowly as though afraid she'll scare him away and then scoffs at herself. 

He's Superman. Like she could ever scare him. 

But there he is, right in front of her. He's wearing his customary Superman outfit, the blue textured suit, the red boots, and the red cape billowing in the gentle breeze behind him. And right there is the S symbol on his chest, the symbol that in such a short time has come to stand for him and all he does. She's seen photos of course. She's studied them carefully in the interests of journalism, but this close Lois can see just how the suit fits and accentuates his biceps and chest.

It really does. It's amazing. Like, it really defines them. 

Amazing. She's an award winning journalist who prides herself on her way with words and the best she can come up with is "he has amazing arms". 

"Lois", Superman says gently, "Is there something on my arm?" he looks down as though expecting to see something amiss or something crawling on his arm that shouldn't be there. 

"Wha...oh no, no no", Lois pulls herself together quickly, brushing her hair from her face, even though it's tidily tied up in a ponytail. 

Superman nods and smiles. 

"It's good to see you again, Lois", he tells her, taking a step closer. 

He's so tall, Lois thinks, and she looks at his face, really looks this time. It's the same face she saw that day at the airfield. The same dark hair and eyes, only now he has a little spit curl in the middle of his forehead and his eyes don't hold that anxiously sad look they had that day. Instead they seem to Lois to be sparkling.

Oh my God, she thinks, I have such a crush going on, it's not even funny, and she fights the urge to giggle.   
Instead she frowns at him. 

"I should be very pissed off at you", she tells him, "You've spoken to practically everyone else but me, and giving your exclusive interview to Clark Kent, some rookie reporter? That wounds me, you know", she taps her chest. 

Superman has the grace to look slightly abashed. 

"Have you been avoiding me?" Lois asks suddenly. 

"I think I have been, yes", Superman admits. 

Lois looks taken aback. "Wow, that was candid", she mutters, leaning against the wall. 

"I never lie", Superman replies.

"So you said in your interview", Lois says, "I'm just used to people humming and hawing around the truth. Your honesty is new to me. But not unwelcome", she smiles. "So", she glances out at the skyline, sorry to break the connection of gazing at him but afraid she'll forget everything she wants to say to him if she doesn't, "You've been avoiding me". 

"I have", he leans his arms on the wall beside her, companionably. He leans great, Lois thinks. "Because", Superman continues, "I think I was afraid. I was afraid you'd see through me". 

Lois is puzzled. "I don't understand", she says. 

"No real reason you should", he smiles at her, "but I'm sorry I didn't contact you sooner. It was wrong of me to leave it this long. But at least", he chuckles, "You never went through with your plan to drive into the river for me to rescue you."

Lois ducks her head. "How do you know about that? You keeping tabs on me?"

Superman laughs. "Not at all. But I hear a lot of things", he taps his ear, "and I definitely heard a voice I recognised making a lot of phone calls about scuba tanks and how long they'd last underwater."

Lois scrunches up her face. "Busted", she allows. She looks over at him. "So how are you finding being Superman? Off the record, of course". 

"Between friends?" Superman asks and there is a serious undertone to his voice. 

"Yes", Lois nods, "between friends", she says in much the same tone.

"It's more complicated than I thought it would be", Superman looks out at the city below, "There's a lot happening everywhere all at once. What should I help with, what should I stay out of, constant judgement calls. But I don't regret taking up this mantle. To be able to do something and to do nothing", he shakes his head, "I think that's one of the worst things a person can do..." he stops abruptly, listening intently. 

Lois looks up at him, then out at the city, then up at him again. "What?" she asks him. 

"There's a situation starting", he moves back from the wall as though preparing to fly up off the roof. He stops. "Want first dibs on a story?" he asks.

Lois grins. "Always!" she says merrily, moving towards the door back to the elevator, "Where's it at and I'll meet you there". 

"Why don't you come with me?" Superman holds out his hand to her.

Lois pauses. "Like..." she makes a upwards whooshing motion with her hand.

Superman nods. 

A big smile appears on Lois' face. "Oh hell yeah!" she says and all but leaps into his arms. 

A moment later, she is flying through the air with Superman, one of his arms firmly around her waist, the other holding her as she looks out at the direction they're flying in, the sky, buildings, everything is zipping past her.

It is the most exhilarating thing to ever happen to her and if this is the pay off for not having a story on him in print, Lois thinks, then it's so worth it. (Though she will never admit that out loud. Ever). 

If my friends could see me now, she thinks. But all her friends are either at work or with their families, or busy elsewhere. 

One person is watching though. He's nowhere close to being a friend but he sees her. 

Lex Luthor, peering through his powerful telescope, sees the figures of Superman and Lois flying to what's known as the Warehouse District in Metropolis. He moves away from the telescope, his face expressionless. Miss Otis stands silently, the folder with the figures he'd requested in her hand, all forgotten now. He stands with his hands behind his back. 

"Miss Otis", he says finally, "tell the department heads on the space station project I want a detailed status meeting here in one hour". 

Miss Otis nods and heads back into the office.

Lex Luthor is wielding his status as a powerful man like a weapon.

But who is he reminding about his power - his hapless employees who now have to interrupt their time sensitive and important project to put together enough facts and figures to placate the project money man, or himself now that a potential threat has literally flown into town...


	5. Developments

Lois is in a jubilant mood. She types with a vigour Perry hasn't seen in a while, stopping only to consult handwritten notes and the pieces she has dictated on her smartphone. Lois is on a roll. News has spread that she got to the scene of an attempted robbery of the Metropolis Municipal Art Gallery with help from Superman. She has just emailed the piece to Perry when Cat Grant appears and plants her hands on her desk. 

"I want deets!" she says.

"No", Lois insists, "I am not fodder for your gossip column". 

"This isn't for the column, Lois", she pulls over an empty chair and sits beside her, "this is for me."

Lois smiles.

"I should hate your guts, Lane", Cats tells her, "You got to fly with Superman", she shakes her head, "Tell me it was wonderful. Tell me it was everything you dreamt it would be. What's he like? How does he smell? I bet he smells fantastic. Does he?"

Lois leans over and whispers something in her ear. Cat sighs happily and they both giggle. 

Over at his desk, Clark glances over and lowers his head, hiding a smile. 

"Lois", Perry stands at his office door and beckons her over.

"Meet me for a drink later", Cat says as they both stand up and Lois pulls down her waistcoat, "I want to hear everything about this and I need your help choosing a dress for my sister's wedding next month".

"You haven't picked one yet?" Lois asks.

Cat makes a 'what can you do?' gesture. "I've been busy", she says, "Meet me?"

Lois gives her a thumbs up and heads to Perry's office. He's back inside, waiting for her.

"So", he holds up the print-out, "Your day got dramatically better?" He smiles and Lois grins but maintains a cool exterior nonetheless. It would not do to be unprofessional at the office and appear overexcited over a guy. Even if he is a super guy from beyond the stars who smells great. 

"I've been thinking though, Perry", she begins.

Perry sits at this desk.

"Glad to hear it", he says.

"It was a three man crew", she begins to pace, "going after the gallery in broad daylight. That's pretty dumb by any standards. Even without Superman's help, it was hardly the crime of the century, y'know? He had those guys in seconds and the police were already on the way because they were alerted by these would be art thieves tripping the silent alarm when they took the painting off the wall. And there were three other more expensive Turner paintings in that room! So either they're not familiar with what constitutes actual priceless art or they were just doing this for a dare and I don't think that's it."

Perry listens quietly. Lois has always had good hunches. It was a conversation like this that led to her beginning an investigation into a local congressman who was using state funds to bankroll his mistress and her deportment college. 

"I had a quick chat with Maggie Sawyer", she goes on, "Very quick, Maggie is a busy woman but she did confirm for me that one of them at least is a low level Intergang member. He's disposable. I wonder if this was Intergang."

"Why would Intergang want to rob an art gallery?" Perry asks.

Lois sits on the arm of the nearest chair. "I don't know", she says, "But I think I'd like a chance to find out."

Perry nods slowly. "Okay. You have until the end of the week", he tells her, "See what you can pull together and we will review it and see what happens."

"Thank you, Perry", she says and goes to leave.

"I'm emailing you revisions on this piece", he calls after her.

"I'd expect nothing less!" she calls back, exiting his office back into the bull pen. 

 

* * *

 

The day goes by. Lois submits her changes and makes phone calls before leaving the office to do some leg work before meeting Cat. 

Clark is busy reading up on employment statistics all day and making notes. He thinks he's noticing a pattern but it'll take some more reading before he's sure. He looks at the encyclopedia sized stat books piled on his desk. Good thing he's a fast reader. 

Later that night, Superman flies around the city rooftops. He likes to make sure the city is at relative peace before he heads back to the apartment he's renting. Or that Clark Kent has rented. 

You're still Clark Kent, he reminds himself drily, Superman is the mask you wear so you can use your powers and still have a life for yourself. 

Metropolis hasn't quite settled down yet though, despite the lateness of the hour. Superman stops two muggings and prevents a heated drunken altercation between two college students from Metropolis University by allowing one of them to weep on his shoulder about how much he misses his home and his dog. 

"Dude", says his companion once he has heard these lamentations and wiping away tears of his own, "I had no idea! I'm sorry I was such a dick!"

"No!" says the other, "I was the dick!" And the two embrace and weep. 

Superman waits until they are ready and then walks them back to where they're staying off campus. It's only after he has left that they realise they never got a selfie with him and they start to cry all over again. 

On his third sweep around the city, Superman notices something that catches his attention and he goes in for a closer look.

Church Department Store, second only to Macy's in terms of variety and retail space in Metropolis, has its entire front window display decked out with all things Superman. There is all kinds of merchandise: pyjama's, table cloths, playing cards, action figures, t-shirts, you name it it's there!

Superman gapes.

"Hey Supes!" a passerby calls out from the other side of the street, "looking to buy a spare cape?!" He bursts out laughing and Superman turns and smiles and acknowledges him with a wave. 

That's a lot of stuff, he thinks, flying up into the air again. But instead of heading to his apartment, he flies in the direction of Kansas. 

Smallville, Kansas to be exact. 

 

* * *

 

Lex Luthor is still in his office. He doesn't care how late it is. He sets his own timetable. 

With him is Bill Church. He's sitting on the couch drinking a glass of damn fine brandy. 

"It's a good thing I'm a night owl", he says, looking at his brandy with a deep form of appreciation, "and of course, anytime is a good time for brandy as high quality as this."

Bill Church is older than Lex Luthor. He's smaller, has a wiry frame, and is balding on top. 

"I had the brandy imported from Europe", Lex tells him, "They only make five bottles every few years."

"How many did you buy?" Bill asks.

"Four", Lex replies, sitting on the chair opposite, "The Vatican bought the fifth apparently. I checked."

Bill nods.

"What was the art gallery about, Bill?" Lex goes straight to the point, "It was very amateurish."

Bill looks at him over the rim of his glass and takes another swig of brandy.

"Yes well", he says, "one of the guys put it together. Thought it would be a good idea. By the time I heard about it, it was too late to do anything but let it play and deal with the consequences.".

"Sounds like Intergang has a smarts and discipline problem", Lex remarks before taking a drink of his own glass of brandy. 

Bill Church puts his glass on the table beside him.

"What's your point?"

"Were you testing the Superman? Is that what that was supposed to be? See how long it'd take for him to arrive?" Lex wants to know.

Bill says nothing. 

"You should leave the tests to me", Lex says, "I have the time and the resources and frankly, I can do a better more sophisticated job. That frees you up to deal with your subordinates who clearly need a firmer hand."

"That's very considerate of you, I'm sure", Bill says sarcastically. This isn't his first time having a meeting with Lex Luthor, and Bill Church has withstood many a hostile conversation both as the head of the board of Church's Department Store and as head of Intergang. "But I can handle it."

Lex shrugs his bulky shoulders. "Perhaps then a two prong attack of varying degrees of sophistication and effectiveness is in order", he says, "It'll let us see exactly what this Superman is capable of and if maybe he can be bought after all."

"His interview would suggest that he can't be", Bill says. 

Lex curls his lip in disdain. 

"Everyone has a price", he says, "and on the rare occasions that they don't, there's always a pressure point that can be used to exert leverage. This Superman is no different." He takes another drink.

"If you say so", Bill concedes, draining his glass, "Can I have another?" he holds it out, "It's not often I get to drink brandy of this calibre. I'm a little greedy tonight, I'm sorry to say."

"I'm happy to share it with someone who appreciates it", Lex gets up to get the crystal decanter and comes over to pour a generous amount into Bill's glass. 

"How's the space station?" Bill asks, sniffing his brandy with joy. 

"It's going to be spectacular, Bill", Lex assures him, "Simply spectacular." 


	6. Smallville

"I'm sorry about arriving so late", Clark says, sitting at in his parent's kitchen in their home town of Smallville, Kansas.

Martha and Jonathan are both wearing dressing gowns over their pyjamas. Jonathan is drinking a mug of tea while Martha and Clark each have a tall glass of milk in front of them. A half empty packet of Oreos is on the table. Flying makes Clark peckish. 

"It's all right, honey", Martha says in her usual easygoing way. It has been said of Martha Kent that if the roof fell in around her, she'd simply add 'fix roof' to her to-do list and get on with whatever she was doing. That theory, thankfully, has never been tested to that degree but Martha is known for keeping a cool head and always having a bright manner when things get tough. It's part of the reason that she's the first call for many people in the area when trouble finds them. "We weren't asleep".

"I was", Jonathan says into his mug of tea. Once he goes to bed, he likes to stay there until it's time to get up. He's an early riser. Always has been, and even though he has scaled back his farming in recent years, the old habit of getting up with the dawn is well and truly ingrained.

Martha pats his hand. "You were pretending to be asleep", she tells him, "so I couldn't show you the colour cards I got for the kitchen. I want to paint the kitchen", she says to Clark who looks around the room, "it needs freshening up."

"The kitchen is fine", Jonathan says to his mug, "it doesn't need painting". 

Martha makes a face at him. Clark grins. 

"You know what's going to happen, don't you?" Jonathan says to Clark, who grins all the wider, "First it's the kitchen. Then the hallway will look drab by comparison so that'll be next. And you can't do the hallway without doing the upstairs because there's a 'flow'", he air quotes, "Next you know, I'm painting the sitting room as well because why not and if there's paint left over, I'm doing the bedrooms", he looks at Martha, "and all because you saw a colour card you liked in the hardware store". 

Clark and Martha burst out laughing. Jonathan feigns grumpiness. 

"Two against one", he mutters, "Nothing changes". 

Martha laughs even more. "You knew what you were in for when you married me", she reminds him, "We changed the kitchen colour four times before we moved in."

"I should have paid more heed", Jonathan says, "but I was madly in love."

"Was?" Martha demands with mock severity.

"Was. Is. Always", he kisses her on the lips.

Clark smiles fondly at them. 

It is an odd tableau: the Kents sitting at their table in their bedclothes with their son sitting opposite them in his Superman garb. Clark looks at his parents. For nearly thirty four years, they have sheltered him, loved him, taught him, and supported him. They have greyer hair these days but they are still the generous and kind people they've always been. That's how they've raised him too, with kindness and respect. 

Even when he began levitating in the kitchen at age four. Even when he set the barn on fire with his heat vision at age eleven. And even when he smashed a piece of furniture or ran through a door or window when his super speed or strength unexpectedly kicked in. 

This is his family. Jor-El may be his guide in all things Kryptonian, helping him to navigate the legacy of the House of El, but here is his home. Here is his heart. 

"So what's up?" Jonathan asks.

"Did you know there's Superman merchandise for sale now?" Clark asks his parents.

Martha nods emphatically.

"Oh yes", she says, "I wanted to call you about it but you still haven't given me the number of your new cell phone", she looks at him meaningfully and Clark grimaces. 

"Yeah, sorry about that", he says

"You may be a grown man, son", Jonathan says with a teasing element to his voice, "Able to leap tall buildings in a single bound but your mother still needs to be able to contact you at all times".

Martha gives him a mock slap on the hand. 

"Have you seen some of this stuff?" Clark asks his mother, getting back to the point, "online or something?"

Martha laughs. "There's a whole aisle of it in Grant's General Store, sprung up practically overnight. They've got pencils and sheets and all sorts."

"Sheets?" Clark repeats incredulously.

"You didn't know about any of this?" Jonathan asks.

"I had no idea", Clark says, "I didn't think about it as a possibility until I saw the display in a department store in Metropolis tonight. I...I don't know what to think!" 

"Does it bother you?" Martha asks.

Clark nods. "A little, yeah. The symbol stands for my Kryptonian family, they wore it proudly. I don't want it stuck on any old thing for a quick buck. I don't want unscrupulous people benefiting from the public demand for anything Superman."

"You need to get yourself a trademark", Martha says knowledgeably. She goes over to her desk near the window and gets her laptop, bringing it back to the table. "We'll google it", she assures him, "See what we need to do." 

"Thanks Mom", Clark says, "I need to see too about setting up a trust or something so that any profits that do come in get to the people or projects that need them. And not just in Metropolis, anywhere. Everywhere. Superman doesn't discriminate by geographical location."

"That's going to take a bit of work to set up and organise properly, I'd imagine", Martha says, typing into the search bar.

Clark shrugs. "Superman will just have to find the best people for the job then", he says.

Martha looks at Jonathan. "And we were worried all this Superman attention would change him somehow", she says to her husband who smiles as he takes a drink of his now cool tea.

Clark sits back in his chair. "What I can say?" he shrugs again, "I'm a Kent." 

 

 


	7. The Beginning of a Partnership

"You're here early, Lois", Perry remarks, heading to his office with his coat slung over his arm and his canvas tote bag in the other. Perry bought that tote bag at a past Metropolis theater festival - it has the logo and year emblazoned proudly on both side - where his son directed his first play to great acclaim. It's weather worn and frayed around the edges but Perry still uses it every day to carry anything he needs to and from the Planet. 

Lois just nods as he passes by her desk. She's typing various search terms into her browser. She has a look of great concentration on her face. Anyone watching her would say she was highly focused on a news story. 

And she is. For the most part. 

She's inwardly beaming because that morning she has had another roof top tête-à-tête with the Caped Crusader, who looks (and smells) as good first thing in the morning as he does later in the day. She has a crush. A huge crush. And she doesn't care. She is enjoying it. After all, if she's going to crush on someone for the first time in a while, she might as well raise the bar and crush on the flying super strong and super handsome man from another planet who has a little curl that sometimes lands in the middle of his forehead. It is adorably cute and...she ends that train of thought right there because this is the work place and she will be professional dammit.   
But there is something very pleasing about the fact that while she was there bright and early (earlier than she would normally come to work), wondering if she'd see him, he flew down and stopped to ask her advice. He wanted to get her opinion on setting up a Superman Foundation and who would be the best to help him trademark his S symbol and in effect, the Superman name. He even asked if she minded that he trademark the name.   
  


"I know you came up with it", he told her, standing there as the morning light hit his profile just so, "and I will gladly credit you with it and recompense you if you..."

There Lois stopped him. She is not now nor has she ever been in the habit of taking money away from those who need it more. 

"It's your name", she said, meaning every word, "If doing this means help gets to the people who need it, then by all means, go right ahead."

And then he smiled at her. Really smiled and she thought she was going to melt at the sight. 

Lois knows a lot of people and not all of them are weirdos either. She has a list for him of those who will good at the nitty-gritty details that setting up such a foundation involves. She also has another list of people to talk to about trademarks. 

None of that is what has her currently looking so focused. Starting with the particulars of the men involved in the recent non-robbery, it has led her to something else, something that has her frowning deeply at her notepad before she picks up the phone and dials a number. 

Over at his own desk, Clark has put aside thoughts of Superman and foundations and is looking at more unemployment statistics for his feature. He quite likes statistics and once took a summer course in them for fun at Smallville High. So he knows his way around graphs and reports and knows when things don't quite add up on paper. After a while, he gets up from his desk, takes his jacket off the back of his chair, and leaves the office. 

By the time the universally accepted time for lunch has come and gone, Clark has had a very busy morning. He has talked to four different people at the Metropolis unemployment office, gone through files dating back twenty years - some of which were on microfiche - and gotten a clearer picture of what had been puzzling him. As well as that, he has prevented a major car pile up on a main road in the greater Metropolis area, stopped a trawler from sinking in the middle of the of the Atlantic Ocean, and has flown an elderly woman to hospital when her malfunctioning pacemaker caused her to pass out in the middle of a busy street. 

Hunger pangs have well and truly hit by the time he pushes open the door of the Corner Grill & Bar, one block away from the Planet building. There are closer eateries, for instance one or two greasy spoons, a coffee shop, and a diner, but this is the nicest when it comes to customer service and variety of choice. It's a popular haunt with a lot of Daily Planet employees. 

Alyson, the hostess, smiles warmly at him as he approaches her station and holds out a menu for him. Clark has eaten here a couple of times. He hasn't had time to buy many groceries since he started working - is that so, he hears his mother's voice in his head, but you managed to fill your cupboard with junk food as though you were a ten year old who got a windfall of fifty dollars - so cooking dinner in the evening is a limited affair. And working late means he doesn't want to go home and start making something. He's seen Lois in here too but he hasn't eaten with her. She's usually reading a book or is with Cat. Their relationship isn't yet on the kind of level where he feels he could think of trying to join them. 

But today is different and this is different so when he sees Lois sitting at a table near the window, he tells Alyson that he is going to pop over to her first. 

"I can sit at the bar after", he says.

Alyson nods. "No problem", she says, "I'll send someone to get your order as soon as you're settled". 

He thanks her and takes the offered menu.

Lois is deep in thought, a half eaten plate of spaghetti in front of her . Her familiar leather satchel is on the chair beside her and her cell phone is on the table beside her plate. She's not paying her phone any heed though, despite the fact that it's flashing with alerts from every news service she follows. 

Clark coughs gently and Lois turns her head and looks up at him, blinking. 

"Hi Lois", he says, "I know you're on your lunch but do you have a minute? I'd kinda like to run something by you. I think I could do with your help."

Lois nods and Clark pulls out a chair and sits. 

"Is this about the unemployment story you're on?" she asks. 

Lois is polite but not very interested in statistics. There's a reason it went to a newbie like Kent. She feels he is proving himself to be a competent reporter and that the Superman story, while he was lucky to get it, is a fine example of his style and shows a talent that can be improved upon with time and experience. Not to mention he is an unfailingly affable fellow and there are worse people to work with. But she is wary of new reporters who turn up and ask help from others, only to reveal themselves as ambitious and willing to step on those who have helped them in order to get to greater and better things. She has seen this happen to others and is determined it will not happen to her. 

"I saw some odd patterns in the stats", Clark says, talking in a low voice and Lois inclines her head slightly to make sure she hears him, "To make a long story very short", he says, and Lois thanks all that is holy that she is to be spared a drawn out story about unemployment statistics of all things, "it seems that every so often, the numbers spike. No rhyme or reason to them. And when I looked closer", Clark stops for a moment and moves his chair closer to the table, "the majority of people that made up the numbers, and there were a lot of them", he says fervently, "the majority of them all came either from Luthor Corp or Luthor Subsidiaries. Like someone there went on random mass firing sprees every so often because it wasn't whole divisions being shut down or what might seem like a project ending or cost cutting exercises. It was janitors, kitchen staff, secretaries, accountants, medical engineers, doctors. There were even a few chaplains, for crying out loud!"

Lois sighs. "There are rumors", she says, matching his low tone, "that Lex Luthor fires people for the hell of it. But it can't be proven so he can't be brought to any unfair practices tribunal over it. And anyway, who's going to take him to a low court like that? His lawyers could tie something like that up in legal knots for years and earn big salaries while doing so. And if you want to work again, then you have to be careful because chances are you'll end up in a Luthor Company or somewhere that he will most likely own at some point", she begins twirling some of the spaghetti around her fork.

"So because of his status as a rich guy, he gets away with it", Clark looks disgusted. 

"Pretty much", Lois says, "One day he will get his comeuppance and I really hope I'm around to write the lead story. It might not be the Planet publishing it though", she goes on, "so many of the other newspapers have had to ease up on their criticism of him because of pressure on their board of directors or their advertising. The Planet is standing firm for now but only because Perry does so much rallying of the troops at board meetings. And of course, your Superman story has given him a lot of ammunition to work with. Perry will not let Lex Luthor take the Planet without a fight, that's for sure."

"He doesn't like him?"

Lois makes a rueful face. "That's putting it mildly", she says, "a few years ago, when they were both on the same committee about a civic something or other, Lex was his usual over bearing self and Perry got sick of it and pretty much said this isn't LexCorp, you don't railroad people here. Lex made a couple of off-hand remarks during the meeting about colours and people", Lois looks at Clark meaningfully, "Coloured people...Perry's black..."

Clark sighs and rubs his face. "Yeah", he says, "Yeah, I get it. He's racist. What a guy."

"Lex Luthor can't be trusted, Clark", Lois tells him, "You're new in town and he has a finger in every pie and sometimes a person can be drawn in to one of his little games before they know it."

"Has that happened to you?" Clark asks.

Lois shakes her head. "I can spot trouble a mile away", she tells him, "Growing up around as an army brat, you get to meet a wide spectrum of people. I trust my instincts when it comes to things like that."

The server, Chloe, who is putting herself through college, arrives to take Clark's order.

"I better leave you to finish your lunch", Clark says, "I'm going to eat at the bar".

Lois gestures for him to sit down. "Stay", she tells him, "I'm going to finish this and go. It's nicer to eat watching the world go by, I think".

Clark nods and gives his order, handing her the menu when he's done. 

"Been a while since breakfast?" Lois asks once Chloe has gone, a small teasing smile forming at the side of her mouth.

Clark sighs. "Much too long", he replies. 

"Good choice on the triple deluxe burger", Lois commends him, "Cat and me came here during the summer after we'd hiked the Hills. We were ravenous. It had been a fun day but trail mix only goes so far and it would appear that it doesn't go far enough for either of us. So we ordered a triple deluxe each and we devoured it with gusto. So delicious. Then a couple of guys came over saying they couldn't believe we'd eaten so much because they'd never seen girls eat burgers like that before", Lois rolls her eyes, "as though men have a monopoly on hunger". 

Clark decides not to mention the pizza he ate before he arrived here for his main lunch. He'd had to take the edge of his hunger, his stomach had been growling at an alarming rate. His metabolism is always running at full speed. He nearly bankrupted his parents as a teenager, the way he ate everything around him and asked not only for seconds but for thirds and fourths. 

Lois puts her phone into her satchel and looks carefully at Clark. She is deciding something. She has already said she trusts her instincts and she is about to do so one more time. 

"I think", she says slowly, "that our stories might be connected..."

Clark looks at her with surprise. "Really?"

"When you're done here", she tells him, "find me at the Planet and we'll talk."

Clark nods. "Okay. Great. Thank you", he says. 

Lois taps her finger on the table as though considering her actions. 

"I'm going to trust you, Kent", she tells him, and the stern expression that has accompanied her calling him this in the past is absent, he notes. 

"Thank you", he says again and Lois holds his gaze for a moment as though convincing herself of something. Finally she nods curtly and gets up to take her bag. Chloe arrives with Clark's food. 

"See you at the Planet", he tells Lois. 

"Enjoy your late lunch", she says and slings her bag over her shoulder.

Clark looks at the mouthwatering beef before him with the lightly toasted brioche bun, and the salad artistically arranged on the side. The home cut fries both look and smell divine. 

"Oh I intend to", Clark says looking at his plate almost reverentially and Lois lets out a peal of laughter. 

She pats him on the shoulder. "Bye Clark", she says and goes to pay for her food. 

Clark is too busy eyeing up his food to notice. It has been a busy day so far. It sounds like the day is far from over yet. He may need dessert after this too to fortify himself. He picks up the burger and takes a bite. It is every bit as delicious as it looked. 

Yes, he thinks chewing contentedly, he will definitely need dessert after this. 


	8. An Uncomfortable Meeting

Lex Luthor sits at the head of the conference table. He has a most relaxed air, sitting back in his chair, and looking for all the world like a perfectly amiable human being. 

He is not however. The relaxed air is manufactured. It is an act. An act no-one around the table is buying and the tension in the room is palpable. The five other people at the table wait. 

They have been summoned because Lex Luthor is not happy, and an unhappy Lex Luthor is a dangerous Lex Luthor. He hasn't said a word since they came in and sat down eight minutes ago. 

Miss Otis sits quietly near the door, separate from the group but close enough to see the looks of uncertainty and suppressed worry on their faces. She looks on impassively. ;;She neither likes nor dislikes these ambush meetings. Attending them is simply part of her job; nothing more, nothing less.

One of the men at the table glances over at her. But, taking in her detached appearance, he realizes there will be no help from that quarter, regardless of what happens in this room. 

Lex suddenly leans forward and everybody tenses.

He gets right to the point.

"My space station", he says, "Why are you trying to deny me my space station?"

The three men and two women exchange worried and anxious glances. 

"Mr Luthor", one of the men speaks up hesitantly and the shake in his voice troubles him. Why is he so afraid to speak in this setting? He's had meetings before with all kinds of people, government officials and private contractors alike, to explain projects and he has always felt and sounded so confident. Why is he so afraid of Lex Luthor? But he knows why, even if he won't admit it to himself. "Mr Luthor", he says again, making an effort to steady his speech but his eyes dart around. He cannot look this man in the eye. "Nobody is trying to deny you anything. But as the people responsible for the safety checks of this project, we can't in good conscience let these concerns go by without saying something. Live are at risk!"

Lex looks stony faced at the speaker. He has a black plastic folder in front of him. It's thick with printed pages, pages these people have printed out and put together to further their case that the space station has problems. 

"There are flaws in the design, Mr Luthor", the man goes on and the others nod in various levels of agreement. They all agree with him, they're just varying on how much they're showing it now that they're here in this room having this meeting. "Hoisting joints", he says, "That simply won't bear up in zero gravity. Clamps that are showing signs of distress and weakness even now in model simulations. These are just a couple of the examples we have laid out in that pack for you", he indicates the black folder, "small things but we believe that when the human element is added and this station goes into use, the build up of wear and tear will occur much quicker than anticipated and cause a disastrous cascade effect. People will die", he says desperately trying to get his message across, "The people you send up to this station will die."

Lex Luthor holds up a hand to silence the man. 

"Do you have suggestions as to how to solve these flaws you believe you see?"

The man takes a deep breath. Here it comes, this is the kicker. 

"The entire station has to go back to the drawing board", he says quickly, "It needs..."

Lex Luthor lets out a bullish roar that makes them all jump. Miss Otis twitches slightly which for her, is akin to a leap. 

"I will not abandon the space station when it is this close to the final phase", Lex says loudly and angrily, his nostrils flaring and his big hands gripping the edge of the table like he's thinking of flinging it across the room in temper, "You will find a way to solve these issues with the current design. The station will proceed as planned!"

He makes a motion to indicate immediate dismissal but the man isn't giving up yet. 

"Mr Luthor", he says, firmer this time, "It can't be done. We've tried. We've gone through the specs individually, as a team, and with our own teams. This design has to be scrapped!"

Lex Luthor bursts out laughing which is no better than an angry response from him. He looks at Miss Otis as though inviting her to join him in the joke. She declines, remaining impassive. 

"Do you think that I'm about to end the project of a lifetime, a project that has cost billions of dollars and taken years of my life, to start all over again because you're worried about some hinges and screws?" Lex looks at them incredulously. 

The speaker, Doctor Kevin Turner, a brilliant engineer falters but doesn't look down, though it takes every ounce of courage he has. Two of the other men look away immediately. The two women haven't looked up once during this meeting. They are top of their respective scientific fields but they are no strangers to meetings where intimidation is involved and they knew this meeting wasn't going to have a happy outcome long before they stepped inside the Luthor building. 

"I don't think you appreciate...", Kevin Turner tries again.

"No!" Lex Luthor gets to his feet, "I don't think you understand", he looks at all of them in turn regardless of whether they're looking up at him or not, "This project will NOT be derailed", his eyes take on a fanatical gleam and everyone in the room recoils slightly, except for Miss Otis who sees him like this a lot. "And I will strongly", he emphasizes the word strongly, "any attempt to do so by anybody in any way. Is that clear?" his voice takes on a dangerous edge. 

The room is silent. 

 

On their way out the main doors of the building, Kevin Turner hurries to catch up with one of his colleagues. The others have gone, walking briskly to get away as far way from there as possible. 

"Louise", he calls to the woman hailing a cab. 

She doesn't turn or indicate that she has heard him. He tries again, louder this time. 

"Louise!" he comes up behind her, breathing heavy. He is not a fit man. 

Her eyes flicker to him but her arm remains outstretched. 

"Why did you sign that document?" he hisses at her, "He can do whatever he wants now and you can't do anything without fear of prosecution!"

"Oh for God's sake, Kevin!" she turns and snaps at him as a taxi sails by, "He was always going to do what he wanted, whether we said anything or not! And if you think I was going lay myself open to retribution from Lex Luthor, then you don't know me at all!"

"People will die!" Kevin insists.

"I know and I'm sorry", Louise says tightly, "but I'm too busy right now making sure that I'm not one of them! Who will look after the kids if something happens to me? Hmm? Will you take time off from your crusading to mind your children?" he looks away but she follows his eyes, making sure he sees her, "They can't rely on you, Kevin, they never have done.  You have done amazing work in so many countries but I am the one who had to leave work early to take them to appointments. I am the one who got the calls from school when they were sick, and I am the one who's career path took a steep decline after they were born, not you, even though if memory serves, we had them together! You asked me to look at the specs, I did. I gave you my opinion. You asked me to come with you to this meeting, I did. I can do no more. I will do no more", she says firmly, "and if we're lucky, we'll get to keep our jobs after this." She turns back to the road to flag down a passing cab.

Kevin closes his eyes. He hears the truth of what she's saying but he can't back down. This can't be swept under the carpet, it's too important, he won't let it.

The taxi pulls into the kerb and Louise opens the back seat door. Kevin's shoulders slump.

"I love you, Kevin", she tells him quietly, "I meant that the day we got married, but just like I said when I filed for divorce five years ago, I cannot follow you on your path. I'm sorry." Dr Louise Turner gets into the cab and looks at the man she lived with for fifteen years. "We gambled and we lost, Kevin. Don't let this consume you. Please. For yourself, for your kids, move on."

She closes the door and Kevin sees her tell the driver an address before it pulls away and joins the city traffic. He takes a breath and then hunches his shoulders, crossing the road and joining the throng of pedestrians walking the streets. 

Up on his terrace, Lex raises his head from his telescope. There is no privacy in front of his building, as far as he's concerned. Not much privacy inside it either for anyone who isn't him.

"Miss Otis", he says and true to form, she is standing at the french doors awaiting instructions, "Please let the Kingmaker know that I would speak with him on a business matter", he says, and she nods and turns away. 

"Oh Miss Otis", Lex remembers something and moves away from the edge of the terrace, "How are we doing on the..." he stops.

"...the aptitude tests?" she suggests and Lex laughs. 

"Very good. Yes, the aptitude tests."

"They will be set to being from tomorrow",  Miss Otis reports.

"Excellent", Lex moves back to his telescope and peers through it once more, "I'm going to enjoy watching those tests". 

 


	9. Mitchell Kingsley

Lois isn't at her desk when Clark gets back to the Planet newsroom. But a quick boost of his super hearing finds her in one of the research rooms past the newsroom, down the corridor near the old pre-digitization library and archive. There are five of these rooms, compact but handy if a person or persons need to thrash out a theory or put up a bunch of flash cards to put a timeline or set of events in order without bothering anyone else. The double doors are glass and they don't lock. They were installed on Perry's orders some years past when a particularly hot summer set temperatures and libidos soaring and the rooms became popular for illicit office nookie.

Lois has her laptop and notebooks on the table that with four chairs is the only furniture in the room.

"Hi", Clark says as he pushes open the heavy door.

"How was lunch?" she asks him.

""I could eat half a dozen more of those burgers, they're that good", he tells her, sitting on the chair beside her.

Lois raises an eyebrow.

"That's a real good way to do all sorts of clogging to your arteries", she says.

Clark shrugs. Probably not a good idea to tell her he's thinking of getting some more as take-out dinner on the way home.

"So", Lois gets down to business, "I've been looking into the art gallery robbery that Superman foiled. Well, it wasn't much of a robbery", she feels compelled to amend, "and there wasn't much foiling going on either but you know what I mean."

Clark nods. He remembers.

"The three aren't thieves. The guy on the Intergang payroll is so low down the ranks that the crime unit don't do much more than monitor him and use him to lead them to bigger fish. Like maybe someday the head of Intergang", Lois sighs, "Man, I'd kill for that reveal. That would be some scoop. Front page guaranteed. You'd get a book out of it too, you know", she trails off dreamily. Clark waits, hiding a smile. She sighs again and returns to the present. "He's referred to as The Bishop but no-one knows who he is. Or if they do, they ain't talking about it."

"Who do you think it is?" Clark asks her.

She says nothing.

"I bet you have a theory though", he goes on, "I can't imagine you wouldn't have put some thought into who it might be."

"I have put some thought into it, yes", she agrees, "but I can't say anything. Perry has made it very clear that there can be legal consequences to talking out of turn with regard to such matters and I like my job too much to be canned for gossiping."

"Fair enough", Clark says, "I wouldn't like you to lose your job. Although", he looks devious, "I do like where your desk is. Good view, ample natural light, close to the coffee machine..."

She reaches over and gives him a light slap on the arm. They both laugh.

"I'll have to put a Do Not Cross tape around my desk", she mock complains.

"Is Intergang a big problem in Metropolis?" Clark asks, "I haven't heard anything".

And so far, Intergang have not shown up on Superman's radar either. Are they lying low? Have they moved on? So much he can do and yet so much he still doesn't know about this city. What else doesn't he know? Will this come to haunt him later?

Clark gives himself a mental shake. Nobody can know everything, he reminds himself of what his parents have told him, not even Kryptonians who can fly so fast they cause a sonic boom. All he can do is his best and remind himself not to be overwhelmed. He's not in this alone. 

He focuses on what Lois is saying about Intergang.

"...so", she concludes, "we're not exactly overrun with Intergang crime here but", she puts her head to one side, "every so often someone crosses a line and ends up being fished out of Metropolis Harbor. Maggie Sawyer and her team are good at their jobs. They keep Intergang in check. And I've no doubt that the arrival of Superman has them closing ranks at the moment too", Lois grins for a moment, "I bet they got all kinds of spooked when he showed up. They're not just a Metropolis outfit though, they're linked with other gangs in some other places. They like to network from what I've heard", she makes a perplexed face, "so why they'd do this amateur hour gig just makes no sense."

"What about the other two with him?" Clark asks.

"Opportunistic freelancers", she shifts in her chair. They're not made for sociable sitting, that's for sure. "Both are in the system. Small time crooks. And they're not talking. They lawyered up as soon as they got to the precinct", Lois' fingers drum on the table, a habit of hers when she's thinking, "However", she continues, "I did some more checking into anything strange around the area at that time and a man was arrested on suspicion of being an accomplice when a patrol officer noticed a very nervous looking guy sitting in a car he'd parked in a zone reserved for disabled drivers. He was around the corner from the gallery. And I thought", she gives a little laugh, "could someone committing a crime really be that dumb? And it turns out he could", she looks at Clark, "because up until 48 hours ago, Mitchell Kingsley worked at Luthor Corp. He was fired without any prior warning or real reason."

Clark looks at her sharply. "Really?"

"Kingsley has two kids. He's on the PTA, and up until now he's never had so much as even a parking ticket. So how does a man like that end up driving for Intergang?" Lois asks Clark. 

Clark doesn't know. But he'd like to find out.

"Something is going on", he muses, tapping his chin.

"Ya think?" Lois frowns at him, "It took me a while to find out who bailed him out too. It was his lawyers but apparently they don't want anyone to know that. You wouldn't believe the attitude I got from the clerk in the courthouse", she looks at Clark incredulously, "She thinks she rules that place!" Lois says with feeling.

Clark feels it safer to stay silent and merely nod. 

"But you found out who it was", he asks after a moment.

"Yeah", she replies, "and get this: it's Bradley, Deacon, and Morris, Attorneys-At-Law."

She sits back and waits for a reaction. 

She gets none except a polite question. 

"And who are they? Besides being attorneys", Clark asks.

Lois looks at him. "You need to get more in tune with who's who in this city", she advises him, "Bradley, Deacon, and Morris are one of the top law firms in this city. They only take on the kind of clients who you see in celebrity magazines. Someone gets a DUI or has a nasty divorce, or gets caught somewhere they shouldn't, they handle it discretely or if needs be, they hold a press conference and try to make their client into the victim.  They're not the kind to take on someone who got arrested for being a getaway driver for a botched art heist. Especially if that person is nobody famous or related to someone famous."   
She grimaces in frustration. "Something is going on here, something I can't put my finger on. Yet. And it's driving me crazy!" she gives the table an open palmed slap. 

Clark looks sympathetic. "Do you think we could get to talk to Mitchell Kingsley?" he wonders, "Ask him a few questions?"

Lois raises an eyebrow. "We?" she asks.

"Hey, this is my story too", he insists.

"How so?" Lois demands.

"I'm the one who trawled through the unemployment statistics", he tells her, "which helped..."

"If you hadn't gone through those boring stats, someone else would have", Lois says scathingly, "and you came to me needing to talk, not the other way around!"

"Yes but I put you on a train of thought that led you to this point", Clark taps the table.

"No you didn't!" Lois retorts, "I was practically there! What, you think I never managed to work out a story before you arrived here?"

"I think you worked out plenty of stories", Clark replies, "but we're both working on this one, whether you like it or not, because this has become our story. There's a link here and we're going to find it and write about it and get on the front page!"

Lois stares at him. "You've got quite the killer instinct there beneath that mild-mannered exterior", she says, "I might just let you help me with this one to see if that Superman story was just a fluke". 

"Thanks", he says, "No matter what happens, I'll always have the Superman scoop. The one you didn't get", he looks deliberately away, but is watching her out of the corner of his eye.

Her head whips around at him. "What's that now?" she demands.

"Oh nothing", Clark tries to stop the smile forming at the edge of his mouth. 

Lois shakes her finger at him. "Lot more to you than meets the eye, huh, Clark Kent", she says appraisingly.

Clark shrugs. "If you say so", he says.

Lois is still watching him suspiciously. "I...we", she corrects herself and rolls her eyes, "need to find a number for Mitchell Kingsley. The one listed on his arrest form is out of service all of a sudden. But if he worked for Luthor Corp for as long as he did, he's bound to be included in employee records."

"Luthor Corp HR won't give them to us".

"We won't be asking them", Lois gets to her feet, "We have the information right here". 

"On their website?" Clark looks at the laptop, "they might have scrubbed that information already if he was let go". 

Lois takes a breath. She is working on being more patient but it's not easy when she can feel a story brewing and she just wants to run out and shake people to give her the information she needs so she can write it. 

"Clark", she says as patiently as she can muster, "the Luthor Corp website is the least transparent site in all of Metropolis. In the whole United States. And it is a reflection of how Lex Luthor does business these days. In fact, if you ring up their main desk, they barely admit that you are talking to someone in Luthor Corp. The website is just an exercise in PR jargon and stock photos of employees looking like they're deliriously happy. No, what we need is out there", she points to the books stacks outside the room and goes through the doors. 

Clark quickly follows, looking at the bays of books, hidden away from the modern newsroom with its high speed wi-fi, all in one desktops and printers, laptops, photocopies, laminators. Even the coffee machine is high tech!

Here are drawers with index cards, thick reference books for US postal codes, dictionaries, editions of the paper from the 1970's and 1980', all relics of a time before the internet and scanners. 

Clark is enthralled. "So much history here", he marvels.

Lois looks at him over her shoulder, never dropping the pace. "You like nostalgia then, Clark?"

"I like knowing what came before", he says, "I think its important in order to feel a sense of belonging. A sense of kinship. History of places, people, it's all connected. We need that information to know who we are and what we're a part of."

Lois stops at one bay in particular. She sees a stepladder over in the far corner and goes to get it.

"I'll get it", Clark says and comes back a moment later carrying it. 

"Put it here please", Lois says, pointing in front of her and she moves out of the way for him to place it safely against the shelves. 

"What shelf?" he asks, one foot on the bottom rung.

"Second from the top. It should be the third book from the left. Thank you". 

He looks down at her from the second rung.

"The books are organised using the Dewey Decimal System", she tells him and he nods, "I...um...I worked here as an intern my first summer in college. I knew even then this was where I wanted to end up. I went through practically every book in this library to catalog it under the watchful eye of Miriam Grant, who was the archivist. She retired a few years ago and they never bothered to replace her. I suppose they don't feel they need to now that so much is online. I like to come in here though", Lois' voice grows quiet, "from time to time. I have good memories here..."

She stops and shakes her head a little as though to clear them of those memories. 

"Careful with that book", she looks up at Clark as he lifts it off the shelf, "It's heavy. Don't overbalance, I won't be able to catch you!"

Clark pauses. Yes, it would be heavy wouldn't it, judging by the size of it and the thickness of the spine. He finds it hard to gauge things that would be awkward to handle or carry for other people. He always has.   
Back in Smallville, most folk either ignored any such discrepancies because they preferred not to know or out of respect for his parents, pretending nothing was amiss about a fourteen year old boy being able to lift twice his weight in animal feed in the agricultural store. 

So Clark adjusts his grip on the book to make it seem like he's compensating for the weight of it as he makes his way back down. Lois has one hand holding the side of the ladder and another at the level of his back as he descends one-handed, helping to guide him down. 

Clark looks at the spine but apart from the yellowing Dewey designation, stuck on with sellotape that is curling at the edges, it gives no indication of what's inside. He looks at Lois questioningly. 

"It's a directory of Luthor Corp employees from 1997. The last time they published one with that much detail. These were made by a lot of places, even us up until 1999, and sent out to government offices or other businesses or libraries. Back then, the internet wasn't the all encompassing thing it is today", she pats the cover of the book Clark is still holding, "If Mitchell Kingsley worked there as long as we think he did, he'll be listed here."

They go back to the research room and Lois finds the listing they're looking for. Clark looks at it. 

"Marketing", he says, "He worked pretty much his entire life in marketing for Lex Luthor and got unceremoniously booted for no real reason". He makes an effort not to grip the table too tightly. A worm of anger at the unfairness of what has happened to Kingsley, made all the clearer after the stats he's spent hours pouring over, is punching his gut. He doesn't want to forget himself and rip a piece off the furniture right here in front of Lois at work. If he feels the need to break something, better he do that in his apartment. His furniture is cheap. It'll break easily and be even more easily replaced. 

But even so, he can't go around breaking things in temper either. His mother would kill him. 

Lois dials the landline number on her cellphone. 

"He might have moved house", Clark feels compelled to add but Lois quickly shushes him as someone picks up on the other end.

"I told you", an angry woman's voice says before Lois can introduce herself, "Stop calling here! Stop trying to intimidate us! He won't say anything, he told you he wouldn't! Leave us alone! You can have your money back, we don't want it! I mean it!" the voice becomes an angrier scream, "Leave my father alone!"

"This is Lois Lane. From the Daily Planet?" Lois manages to break in, "I'm sorry to bother you at an obviously difficult time but I was wondering if I could talk to Mitchell Kingsley". 

"No you can't!" the woman screams even louder, "Are you trying to get him killed?! Go away!!" she slams down the phone.

Lois puts her cell phone down on the desk.

Clark is frowning so much at that call, two lines are deeply etched between his eyebrows. 

"She sounded very scared", he says quietly.

Lois nods. She looks thoughtful but none too comfortable herself.

"I think Mitchell Kingsley is in more trouble than we realized", she says, "I don't like this, Clark. I don't like this at all. I need to talk to Perry, see what he suggests we do next", she starts to pack up her belongings and shoves her notebooks into her satchel. 

"Yeah, that's a...that's a good idea", Clark agrees, backing up to the door, "I need to go...run an errand", he makes his escape. It's clear that whatever Mitchell Kingsley has found himself caught up in, he's afraid for his life to talk to anyone like Lois Lane and Clark Kent about it.

But maybe, just maybe he'll talk to someone like Superman about it, if approached properly. And not for the story either. 

Clark Kent lives here now. This is his city. And he'll be damned if he lets someone be that scared by unknown forces on his watch. Not while there's a chance Superman can do something about it...


	10. A Miserable Desperation

Mitchell Kingsley sits on the back porch of his two storey house, looking out at his garden which is as nondescript as the house. Just another building on the block with three steps up to the front door and the outside of the house painted white. Out there, the garden is surrounded on three sides by a thick and tall hedge.

It is past midnight and it's cold out. The sweater he is wearing is barely keeping the chill out.  Mitchell is sunk in a reverie, remembering all the times the girls played out in this garden, all the spare moments working on some DIY project to keep the house as comfortable and up to date as they could afford. He likes working on projects that involved using his hands, that involve building things and making things. It gives his brain a break from his marketing job and as well as a respite from all the office politics and intrigue. Luthor Corp is rife with it, the back stabbing and whisperings around corners. He has an ulcer from working at that place. Any other time, he'd have been happy not to have to work there but he'd always thought he'd have another job lined up when he left that place.   
  


Metropolis is a city but still. Once you are let go from Luthor Corp with no real explanation, you tend not to get rehired too quickly by any other firms. Luthor Corp stays mute on why you aren't working there anymore and bigger places won't take you on, just in case. Also some of them have big contracts with Lex or his subsidiaries and prefer not to annoy him by taking on anyone he has deemed unworthy to work for him. 

Mitchell looks at the hedge. The sliver of moonlight shining down as well as the small amount of light coming from the light on the back porch means he can make it out in the dark. For years, he has threatened to cut it down especially after an arduous day working in the garden when he is feeling bothered and extremely dehydrated. The end is nigh for that hedge, he will declare, it's a nuisance to maintain, it blocks out too much sunlight, he will tell his wife who listens with the air of the long suffering patient wife and then she hands him a cold beer or a chilled soda, whatever is closest to hand, and after a long drink Mitchell begins to feel more like himself and the hedge survives another day. 

He is glad now of the privacy that the hedge affords from the prying eyes of neighbours and those who are sitting outside his house in their cars. When he last peeked out the upstairs window, he counted five strange cars on the street. They all give a warning. That he should stay quiet and let the chips fall where they may. He already knows that his wife and children will be targets if he talks out of turn. 

The job was easy on paper but Mitchell is no getaway driver. He is not one who can cope with the pressure or the stress of a criminal activity. He told them so. But they were insistent. And in a moment of weakness when he thought of the mounting bills, he agreed. Now he sits with the consequences of this action on his shoulders. He feels ashamed of what he has done, what he has brought upon his family. His two daughters upstairs in their beds sleeping now but confused and anxious about why their father was arrested. His wife dozing in the recliner in the sitting room, grabbing some rest after a day trying to sort out what to do next, how best to cope with this new and unexpected development in their lives. 

He loves them all so much. He takes a deep breath and feels a kind of peace as he realises he has made his decision. He gets up and walks to the end of the garden where the hedge is thickest. He puts his hand into a gap near the left hand corner of the garden and takes out a rectangular tin box. It hasn't always been there. Mitchell usually kept it out of reach in his bedroom closet. But this morning, he put it down here before anyone was up and around. He opens the tin and takes out a small revolver. He has a permit for it. 

Mitchell Kingsley has always been a law abiding man. He looks at the gun and gives a mirthless laugh. The irony of it all, he thinks. 

The gun is already loaded, he has seen to that. He looks at the house and smiles sadly.

"I love you all", he says, "I brought this upon us, I will be the one to take it away. Forgive me", he whispers, closing his eyes and slowly raises the gun to his temple. There is a slight rush of air as he squeezes the trigger...

...Mitchell takes a breath and realises he is still alive. He opens his eyes and starts so violently that he almost falls into the hedge. 

"You!" he breathes, "What are you doing here?!" he looks at Superman's outstretched arm and realises that Superman is holding the bullet between his thumb and index finger. Mitchell's eyes widen. "Why did you do that?" he demands, whispering fiercely, "I was ready to die! Why did you interfere?"

"Because your life holds value, Mitchell", Superman tells him, "I believe that even if you don't. And I think your family would agree with me too."

At this mention of his family, Mitchell's knees buckle. He sinks to his knees on the damp grass and the conviction he had that he was ready to die ebbs away. Tears begin to roll down his cheeks.

"You can't help me", he says miserably, "nobody can. They're too powerful. There's too many of them, I'm going to have to go to jail or do more jobs to make up for getting into trouble in the first place."

Superman lays a compassionate hand on Mitchell Kingsley's shoulder. 

"What's the point in being able to do what I do", he says quietly, "if I can't use it when people really need help", and Mitchell looks up at him. This tall figure he's seen on TV and in photos. 

Strange, he thinks, how someone can be so powerful and seem so approachable at the same time. How does this man exude such honesty and trust? It's no wonder his daughters, and his wife, have been giggling over photos of him and mock swooning at the mention of his name. 

Superman holds out his hand. 

"If you want me to", he says, "I can help you. All of you", he glances towards the house. 

Gathering up what's left of his courage, Mitchell looks at the hand being offered to him and then grabs it firmly with both of his. 

Superman smiles. "It's going to be okay, Mitchell", he says, and Mitchell believes him, feeling a jab of hope for the first time in a couple of days. 


	11. A Chat in the Park

Barry Grey sips his coffee and grimaces at the taste. This is why he never buys from park kiosks but he needed something to make himself look less conspicuous as he strolls around the park. At this hour, it's frequented by children too young to be in school accompanied by their carers, be it their mothers or grandmothers or nannies or childminders. A man walking alone with no dog - there are also dogs and their walkers at this hour - and with no child is bound to arouse suspicion. Hence the coffee and his well dressed appearance. Though he is aware that someone's outfit is no indication of their motives or moral standing. 

He sits on a park bench, far enough removed from the nearby children's playground so he doesn't look like a creeper. Barry stifles a yawn. He got the call at 2am that Mitchell Kingsley had vanished which he then had to report to his chain of command. That phone call went as well as you might imagine. 

He glances over in the far distance and does a double take. In amongst the people with strollers and with dogs on leads, he can see four women walking together, one carrying weights in her hands, another with a cat on a lead, another carrying a large bottle of water, and the fourth has...he squints and leans forward slightly to make sure he's seeing what he's seeing, yes, he's right. The fourth woman is walking a duck. A very well behaved duck who seems to be better on the lead than some of the dogs and indeed the cat who is trying to bolt every chance it gets. 

He sits back and takes another drink of his coffee, swallowing it down fast before he can actually taste it.

Only in Metropolis, he thinks. 

The true Autumn chill has yet to kick in but Barry is cold regardless from tiredness. 

"Good morning, Barry", a well dressed young woman comes up and sits beside him. He takes her cheerfulness as a personal insult to both his tiredness and advancing age. She sits on the bench beside him and lifts her travel mug to her nose, the rich aroma of expensive coffee filling her nostrils with some of it wafting towards his. He feels personally attacked by her good coffee. 

"Good morning, Diamond", he says, "I thought I'd be talking to Miss Otis this morning". 

Diamond sniggers, her exquisitely manicured nails tapping her stainless steel mug. 

"You think Miss Otis comes out to run errands like this?" she asks, taking a long drink and sighing with satisfaction as it hits the spot, "Oh no, Barry. This is way below her station". 

"But not below yours", Barry says, and there's a nasty edge to his voice.

Diamond is unperturbed.

"I go where I'm told", she says, moving her mug so that the smell of coffee is closer to Barry, "I'm well paid for it. Besides, it's as well you're meeting me and not her. She's not super impressed by the word she got this morning that someone who previously worked for Luthor Corp and who got himself into a spot of bother with the law, while on your payroll, has now vanished. Last I was aware, she hadn't mentioned anything about it to Mr Luthor but", Diamond turns to look at Barry and smiles, "who knows?" 

This is why Barry hates having anything to do with anyone from Luthor Corp. They're all sneaky and annoying and apt to turn on you without so much as batting an eyelash. 

"I don't know how they got out", Barry tells her, "We've been making sure that he knows we've been keeping an eye on him so the only person who's had the nerve to leave is the wife to drop the two girls to school and seeing as how she went to collect them again three hours later, I suspect the school day didn't go so well", Barry sniffed. 

Diamond nods. "They're at a tricky age", she agrees, "Miss Otis wants it known that she wants this dealt with one way or the other. If Intergang tries to incriminate Luthor Corp, its subsidiaries or employees in any way, there will be repercussions."

Barry sighs. "Yeah, I know how it goes", he says, "I will pass that on. Though I'm not sure why you'd have such concerns, I mean we only get the names of people who need a quick buck and a job from your HR department..."

Diamond looks at him.

"I wouldn't even joke about it if I were you", she warns him, and there's a look in her eyes that reminds him that she's a woman who could expertly karate chop him in the windpipe if she felt like it.

Diamond stands up. 

"We will deal with it", Barry tells her and Diamond snorts.

"You say that like you have a choice", Diamond tells him before she walks off. 

Barry watches her go. She has a point. 

He goes to take another drink of his coffee and stops himself in time, making a face. He stands up and goes over to the nearest trashcan, dropping the cup into it. 

"Good riddance", he says to it and walks off. 


	12. Faster than a Speeding Locomotive...

Around the same time as Diamond and Barry are having their meeting in the park, Lois and Clark are up on the roof of the Planet building, both looking out at the city skyline. 

"I wonder if Superman is around", Lois muses, looking overhead as though she might see him fly by any moment. 

"He's always around", Clark replies. He's leaning on the wall, looking out. He hasn't been up here often as Clark. It's nice to just be able to hang out here idly for a few minutes before it's time to head downstairs and get back to work. 

"He hasn't been around as much", Lois remarks, "but I suppose he's busy with his saving people and setting up that foundation. Did you hear, he's setting up a foundation so the money from the merchandise he licenses can go to charity".

"Yes, I heard", Clark says, "Superman told me so when I interviewed him this morning."

Lois' head whips around and the expression on her face would terrify an army. 

Clark bursts out laughing and holds his hands up in an surrendering gesture.

"I'm joking, Lois", he tells her, "I haven't interviewed Superman". 

Lois is only mildly mollified. "That's not funny", she mutters and Clark grins. 

"Like I'd interview him again without your permission", Clark nudges her gently with his elbow and she chuckles in spite of herself. 

"Damn straight", she says and now they're both laughing. 

The laughter stops when there's a loud explosion on their far left and Lois turns immediately to see what it was. She sees a giant column of smoke rising into the sky and her eyes dart from side to side, trying to pinpoint where it is. 

"That's near the docks", she says over her shoulder to Clark, "That's the...that's the warehouse district, isn't it?" she points as she turns to look at Clark.

But Clark is nowhere to be seen.

"Clark?" she looks around in surprise but he's gone. 

She hurries back inside and down to the newsroom where people are looking out the large glass windows or checking the news on their tablets or phones or whatever piece of tech will give them some clue as to what's happened. The televisions mounted on the wall around the newsroom are turned to the Metropolis 24 hour news channel and the newscaster, Greta Lawrence, who got her start at the Planet as Perry likes to remind everyone and is a trusted face in news at this point, is talking.

"We are getting reports of an explosion in one of the warehouses near the docks", she says, reading quickly off the laptop on her desk in front of her as she also addresses the camera and the people watching, "right now, we have no idea if it was in use or what caused this explosion. Police and emergency services are on their way and are advising people to stay away from the area..." she pauses and listens to something in her ear piece, "we're just now getting a report that Superman is on the scene", there is some cheering in the newsroom at that, "and we have an eye witness on the line..." she pauses, "I believe we have Kenny on the line now, hello Kenny?" she says and there's silence for a couple of moments before a male adolescent voice replies, "Yeah, hi, it's me Kenny!" 

Kenny sounds very excited and Greta moves in quickly to keep the conversation on track. This isn't her first time dealing with a young caller.

"Kenny, can you tell us what you're seeing right now?" she asks and Kenny lets out a whoop that makes Greta raise both eyebrows in surprise but her composure remains in place.

"Superman is putting out the fire with his super breath!" Kenny yells with unabashed glee, "He's like totally just freezing it, ice cold style! Yeah! Go Supes!" he yells and whoops some more.

"Kenny", Greta says, then louder and firmer, "Kenny!"

"Yeah", Kenny responds, "Sorry, it's just amazing, there's a fire truck pulling up right now too and Superman is flying down to talk to them. When he arrived, he flew right over our heads like whoosh! A blur of red and blue! Man, he's like something out of the movies but he's the real deal! No wires!" Kenny bursts out laughing.

"Kenny, can you see any damage to the warehouse?" Greta asks.

"Oh yeah", Kenny says, "the explosion blew the roof right off, there's bits of wood and shingle everywhere around it, and it's kinda blackened on the walls but I guess it's okay otherwise. I don't know if there was anything in it. Do you want me to go look?"

"No!" Greta says hastily, "no, you should stay where you are and remain safe", she looks at the camera, "we always advise all our viewers to remain safe in times like this."

"Nice save, Greta", someone near Lois says, "don't want a lawsuit". 

"You know she used to work here", Lois hears Perry say from the other side of the room and she smiles, despite the situation they're watching unfold. 

"Okay", Kenny says, "we can see everything from here anyway. It's a good spot", he continues in a very conversational manner, "me and my friends come up here when we cut school to smoke some weed. Nobody bothers us here", he chuckles loudly, "Like today, we got ourselves some good stuff. We thought the explosion was like us out of our minds even though we haven't actually smoked anything yet..."

"Dude, shut up!" someone is heard to say in the background. They sound very anguished at what Kenny is suddenly divulging. 

"Oh shit! My mom will kill me!" Kenny yells before he abruptly ends the call. 

A ripple of laughter goes around the newsroom and even Greta, the consummate professional, has to put her head down a moment, her lips twitching before she looks at the camera again. Her face is composed but her eyes are bright and sparkling with suppressed laughter. 

"That was Kenny", she says, "who may need Superman's help to get him out of this one. We'll be back with more after this commercial break". 

The channel logo comes on and then a commercial for insurance comes on.

Lois turns away from the television and goes to sit at her desk. She boots up her laptop and goes to Google maps to look at the warehouse district. It's far enough removed from any residential area for them to worry about any fire there. It's also not as bustling as it used to be and some of the warehouses are disused and boarded up but there's enough business down there for it still to be a viable area for Metropolis industry. 

She pulls a notepad over to her and picks up a pen.

Insurance job? she writes and underneath adds, fluke accident? 

She's not too sure about that second one. A fire might be caused by anything from chemicals to a homeless person trying to keep warm in an abandoned shelter. But the detail of the roof exploding off. That needs explaining, she thinks. 

Her musings are interrupted by a text on her phone. She reads it and frowns deeply.

"How in the hell did that happen?" she says out loud but nobody is listening to her. She's about to type a reply when she realises that Greta's voice in the background has changed from interviewing the Metropolis fire chief to sounding urgent. 

Lois turns around to look up at the TV. 

"We are now getting reports of a second incident, a train", Greta reads from her notes, "an express train", she amends, "on its way to Metropolis is reported to have brake trouble and cannot decrease speed for the run into Metropolis station", she looks at the camera, "There are over two hundred people on board, including the driver and catering staff". 

"Oh sweet lord", someone says and there are gasps of shock around the newsroom. 

Lois gets to her feet. She has taken that train. It runs from Chicago to Metropolis and is a very popular route, not least because of the time it takes to make the journey. The train is state of the art, the carriages comfortable and roomy. 

"We have rail expert Maurice Geary on the line", Greta says, "Mr Geary, what can you tell us about this situation as you know it?"

Maurice Geary clears his throat. He has the intonation and speaking style of the older gent who is accustomed to talking with authority about things. 

"From what I've gathered, the train has been unable to engage the braking system which begins to slow its speed about half an hour prior to arriving at Metropolis. This is important because these trains go at such speeds that were they to travel on tracks such as were used ten or even six years ago, they could not be labelled as express. Most of the track on this route has been upgraded but the last few miles into Metropolis have yet to be finished and therefore if the train hits those tracks at the speed it goes at elsewhere, it will simply derail the train". 

There is silence at this statement, both in the newsroom and from Greta. Maurice Geary begins another sentence but Greta interrupts.

"I'm sorry, Mr Geary", she says, "but I'm just getting word that Superman has left the warehouse district and is, we presume, we hope, on his way to the speeding train. Now we'll find out if he is indeed faster than a locomotive", she stops and listens, "we have someone on the train on the line, I believe. Molly Sanders, Molly can you hear me?"

"Yes hi!" Molly says. She sounds tearful but more together than some people might be in a similar situation, "I'm on the train. It just wouldn't slow down and the driver came on the intercom and told us that we needed to brace ourselves for a possible derailing and to take anything dangerous or heavy from overhead. But now, oh my God!" she breathes, "Superman just flew by. He just flew by my window!" 

Greta smiles. Even she's allowing her excitement to show. 

"Has the train slowed down any?" she asks and Molly squeals in delight. Cheering and clapping can be heard in the background. 

"Yes!" Molly says, "he's stopped the train! My goodness, it was so gentle, we never felt a thing! Oh my God, he's amazing!!"

Lois grins broadly. 

Yeah he is, she thinks. 

A smattering of applause breaks out in the newsroom. 

Perry starts barking orders at people but Lois is still staring at the TV. They've put up a stock photo of Superman and she's just enjoying gazing at it. 

"Get back to work, Lois!" Perry shouts at her from across the room, "You're not paid to stare at pictures of handsome men". 

There's some laughter at this.

"More's the pity!" Lois calls back, and the laughter increases as the newsroom settles back into its usual hustle and bustle, now that the crises are over. Or so it would seem. 

"And where's Kent?" Perry says to her as he goes back into his office. 

Lois looks at Clark's desk. He's not there and he's not around the newsroom.

She frowns, perplexed.

"Where the hell is he?" she asks nobody in particular. 

The double glass doors to the newsroom open and Clark comes in. He's eating a bagel and carrying a brown paper bag that looks full.

"You went out for a bagel?" Lois says incredulously. 

"No", Clark says patiently, his hair and suit and tie looking incredibly neat for someone who flew so fast he caused two sonic booms on his way to the train and got dressed into street clothes at super speed in order to get back to the office in a somewhat timely manner, "the explosion reminded me that I had to check the furnace at my apartment building. I told the Super I'd keep an eye on things while he's out of town for the week. I got the bagels on my way back. I missed breakfast", and he mentally adds, I am starving after expending all that energy in so short a space of time. Super speed is one thing, stopping express trains from killing anybody is another. 

"You bought bagels?" Lois looks like she can't believe what she's hearing.

"You want one? They're freshly made", he holds out the bag to her.

Lois looks at Clark and then at the bag and then back to Clark.

"I do actually. Thanks", she takes the bag off him and peers into it for one that looks tastiest. 

"So", Clark looks around the newsroom, "What did I miss?" 

 


End file.
